The Obligatory Halloween Ficlette Series!
by speaker4thesilent
Summary: A way of clearing plot bunnies away so that I can keep working on my main stories. Now featuring an attempt at an October fic-a-day!
1. Happy Hallow's End!

Meant to upload this yesterday before work. Was doing HH for, like, the twelfth time when I thought of this little ficlette.

Keep in mind that I'm playing fast and loose with the timeline for this to work.

I own nothing except my copy of WoW and TBC. Do not sue me as I have nothing worth taking.

XXXXX

Happy Hallow's End!

Within a graveyard cold and dank, there lives a troubled soul;

He believes all life is dead, and only he is whole.

As he sits aside his fiery steed, his laughter ringing clear,

The townsfolk stay behind locked doors, for Hallow's End draws near.

T'is seven days and seven nights, till the horseman roams the land;

Are you prepared to face the one who holds his head in hand?

Well, we shall know in just a week, the ones who'll take the stand;

When comes the time for trick or treat, the time for Hallow's End.

**Isilien of the Scarlet Crusade**

Xander was wandering through the new costume shop, a place named Ethan's, when he saw it. It wasn't exactly like the one in the game, but he figured he could fix that easily enough. A few minutes later, the original costume, along with a straight-bladed long sword, a roughly head-sized Jack-o-lantern, and a faux-plate helmet ended up on Ethan's counter. The cost of the buy meant that he'd have to go without snacks for the next month or so, but he simply hadn't been able to resist. He'd have to let Dawn know; she was just geeky enough to enjoy the joke.

XXXXX

Honestly, Xander didn't know how Dawn had managed to convince her mother to let her exchange her already-bought-and-paid-for Partytown costume for the pile of bits and pieces she'd need to recreate Dawn Summers the Warlock, but Xander was glad it had worked, even if it did mean he'd had to escort her to and from the shop.

Besides, going as a pair would make the Halloween night even more fun. As he dropped Dawn off at home he was already working to come up with funny turns of phrase that wouldn't take him out of character.

XXXXX

Joyce answered the knock on her front door and slammed the front door closed with a little scream before remembering who was supposed to be arriving about that time to meet up with her daughters and that nice Willow that always helped Buffy study for her tests. Opening the door again, she apologized, "Xander, you startled me!"

"No Xander here stands,

Fair lady of white,

Only a monster,

A long-Fallen Knight."

Joyce laughed at Xander's rhyme before inviting him in. "They'll be down in a moment she said, looking into the cut-out eyes of the Jack-o-lantern inside the helmet.

She'd no more than turned her back when she heard Dawn scrambling down the stairs, her words almost aglow with praise for her 'secret' crush's costume. Joyce was just glad that her daughters would have such a nice young man looking out for them. After all, even in suburbia there were strange people out sometimes. Like that violent young man in the mask on Teacher's Night . . .

XXXXX

Dawn could only describe her condition as 'stoked.' She'd gotten to wear an awesome Warlock costume to match with Xander. Not only that, but by some trick of fate, she'd also managed to wind up in Xander's group for trick or treating too. Plus she couldn't stop geeking out over how her crush had handled Larry the stupid annoying pirate. He must have practiced that laugh for _hours_ to get it just right. After what she'd heard him say about beating up Xander as revenge for the way Buffy had treated him. . . well, a little public embarrassment couldn't hurt. Another plus to following Xander was that he knew just which houses to visit so that all of his charges got full buckets in record time. Just as they were about to start heading for home a wave of . . . something passed over her, and for just a moment, she couldn't tell which direction was up before a hammer-blow of magic knocked her out of the proverbial driver's seat.

When her body stood up, it was not Dawn Summers of Sunnydale, California at the helm, but Dawn Summers of Goldshire, raised in the orphanages of Stormwind after her father died in the war and her mother of the plague. It had been there that she'd first discovered her talent for magic; there that she'd learned of the power the dark, hidden parts of that gift could give her.

That Dawn Summers looked up and paled.

Because, in that moment, she _knew_ she was dead, for standing above her was the Headless Horseman himself.

XXXXX

Spike was just getting ready to step out of the door when Drusilla screeched behind him. He was at her side in just a moment. He knelt down to ask her what was wrong, but she was staring past him unseeing.

"Its terrible, Spike! My poor kitten will lose his head! Oh, but snicker-snack and pumpkin smiles as he slices and dices," an insane giggle passes her lips.

Spike simply rolled his eyes, "Did you see anything else, ducks?"

Dru nodded at him, the first time since he'd arrived by her side that she acknowledged his existence. "Miss Edith saw it, and she told me what she saw." She confided gravely. "Death, death, death. The Horseman rides tonight with a demon alongside," Spike couldn't help but grin. So much for a quiet Halloween.

"What about the Slayer, Dru?"

"Insides to outsides and outside go in," the mad Seer pronounced before she lost interest. "Do you love all of me, Spike? Even my insides? The parts you can't see?"

Spike, thrilled by what he assumed was Drusilla's pronouncement of the Slayer's death answered with only a casual, "Of course," as he fled out the door.

XXXXX

His head ached. That, in and of itself was not unusual. For as long as he could remember, his whole body had radiated pain. Pain that he alone of all the world had remained pure while the plague killed everyone else around him, reanimating them as mindless ghouls.

But that was wrong. That wasn't the pain he felt echoing through his head with every beat of his-

Heart. A heart that he couldn't remember beating for . . . forever. But it beat now, as it surely always had. His memory simply wasn't what it used to be. He raised his head and saw immediately a foul ghoul cowering at his feet, as was its place. A ghoul that . . .had a heartbeat?

For a moment, he almost struck anyway, certain he was mistaken. But he heard it again, and again. Had he been capable of it, tears would have overflown his eyes. The Light had answered his prayers! Here were living breathing people! Humans unaffected by the plague. People that, perhaps, he could still save. But this one . . .something was telling him that this one that cowered in fear before him as though he were one of the undead was special. And whatever it was, it was right. This was the first human he had seen in so very long. He would be certain that no harm came to her. Almost against his will a phrase slipped out of his mouth, feeling strange by itself without other phrases to support it. "You are dear to me," he said, wonderingly as the young woman stared at him in shock. Perhaps the knights of this strange place mistreated their people? Did they have no concept of how fortunate they were to have subjects at all?

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, and his sword swung around without conscious thought and decapitated the undead filth that had tried to spring on his charge; he could not have been more surprised when the corpse vanished into dust. He swung back around just in time to see a bolt of magic fly from her fingers and reduce the head of a charging undead to vapor. This place was infected too. For a moment despair nearly overcame him before the girl in front of him caught his attention. There was still at least one worth saving. He held out the reigns that hung on his belt and his horse rose up beneath him, lifting him high enough to see humans all down the street running from or fighting monsters, demons, and the undead. He raised his blade above his head and let forth his war cry.

"Prepare yourselves, the bells have tolled!

Shelter your weak, your young, your old!

Each of you shall pay the final sum!

Cry for mercy! The reckoning has come!"

Peripherally aware of the warhorse rising at his side, the Horseman swept out across Sunnydale with the blood of the undead on his blade, and a song in his heart.

XXXXX

It had taken forever, but Spike had finally managed to track down the Slayer. Only somehow she wasn't the Slayer anymore. At least not now. He'd had some fun scaring the living daylights out of her for a bit, but she'd been so terrified it wasn't hardly worth the effort. He was just about to just grab the silly bitch and drain her to death (after all, killing a Slayer was killing a Slayer and this one would give him a whole three. Better than most Masters twice his age could claim.) when he heard the sound of hooves behind him. He managed to turn enough that he saw the definitely dead horse bowl him over.

By itself, that wouldn't have been enough to cause him any trouble at all, but then the obviously well train warhorse decided to use him as a carpet, stomping up and down all over him. By the end of half a minute, if there were any unbroken bones in his body, he couldn't feel them.

"Your body lies beaten, battered, and broken!

Let my curse be your own, fate has spoken!"

And the asshole was rhyming about his plight. He was going to beat the shit out of the bloody wanker! Just as soon as he healed enough to stand up.

"She's a human," the girl on a very demonic-looking horse behind the bastard that had trampled him said. Even though the young woman was frightened, she didn't protest as the knight hauled her onto the horse behind him.

Bastard! Walking off . . . well riding off with his dinner! How dare he? He was definitely getting the beating of his life! Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after.

XXXXX

Dawn directed the Horseman as best she could toward the most active concentration of fell energy within her sensing radius. "There!" she said as the shop came into sight pointing directly at the source of the magical disturbance. Both of them dismounted and made to enter the strange building. It was an unpleasant shock to discover that they could not. Dawn growled as a shadow bolt splashed off of empty space at the threshold. The shield in the doorway likewise deflected a two-handed blow from the Horseman's sword.

Now Dawn was pissed. She hadn't come this far, survived, somehow, the Headless Horseman himself, to be stopped by some idiot, stupid wizard. With a scream that turned into a roar mid-breath she drew the shadows around herself and _shifted_. Wings of shadow stretched out behind her and four-inch horns grew from her brow as she _smashed_ herself, both fists and magic against the barrier. Which fucking held! She blasted as much power as she could draw at the barrier two more times just to be sure, but nothing she did seemed to even phase the magical shield. With an irritated roar, she reverted to human form and turned around. Just in time to see the Horseman leap into the sky astride his mount and unleash a wave of fire over the front wall and roof of the building, laughing hysterically as the store started to go up like a pitch-soaked torch.

"Fire consumes, you've tried and failed!

Let there be no doubt, justice prevailed!"

And that was downright impressive, though she still couldn't understand why-

The spell ended and the sidewalk came up and punched her in the face.

XXXXX

Xander settled back to the ground, trying not to hyperventilate at what he was seeing. There was no way that it could possibly be happening. Even as he performed his customary post-fight ritual, he still couldn't believe that he and Dawn had killed dozens of vampires drawn out onto the streets by the chaos of the night. That he'd beaten _Spike_ to a pulp! _Still have all my fingers and toes. Arms and legs still work. _Then he got to his head.

And promptly knocked it off.

For a full five seconds, Xander stared at his headless body in shock, waiting for the pain and death to set in. when it didn't he glared at the flailing form for another few seconds before _willing_ his head up to shoulder height and growled, "Get over here, you idiot!"

XXXXX

And that's it. I have a few more of these I want to write so's I can get back to IND. Just clearing bunnies. Please remember to review. It is, after all, the coin of the realm. :)

And that's it. I'm going back to bed.


	2. Happy Hallow's End Part Deux

I seem to have developed diarrhea of the pen, but this has been an annoyingly persistent bunny . . . soooooo here's the second part of Xander as the HH :)

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Happy Hallow's End (Part Deux)

Xander Harris flopped down on the couch beside Willow. Normally, he'd have been joking around in a probably-vain attempt to cheer Buffy up, but he simply wasn't feeling up to it right now. Especially after all the crap they'd put him through after Halloween.

His hand drifted up to his left shoulder of its own volition, and he only just caught it before he could start rubbing the place where Buffy's sword had slipped between the armor of his breastplate and his pauldron. He might've been in trouble that night if Dawn's quickly cast fear spell hadn't sent her sister scrambling for the far side of the library in a blind panic.

Which was another reason he was only barely on speaking terms with Buffy. After all, it was sorta hard to conceal the fact that her little sister was suddenly three years older than she'd been the night before, and a full foot taller than her elder sister. Oh, and had a bigger bra size. And the ability to fling spells and summon demons. Not to mention the fact that the sudden growth spurt Dawn had gone through had meant that Joyce had found out about Buffy's after-hours activities.

And Buffy had decided it was All Xander's Fault. Of course the process of tugging off his helmet to prove to Buffy that it was really him had also demonstrated the most interesting thing of the night. When the helmet came off, the armor and the sword vanished into thin air. No one had been more surprised than him. Except maybe Buffy, who'd still been trying to put as much distance between Dawn and herself as possible.

Finally Buffy's rant started to run down and she trailed off with, "I don't know, maybe we should just go to the Bronze tonight," Xander glanced at Dawn as she sat on the couch opposite the one he shared with Willow and strangled a grin as the (younger?) Summers sister rolled her eyes at the bottle blond.

"Maybe dancing will help?" Willow agreed.

"I'd suggest a box of Oreos dunked in apple juice, but maybe she's over that phase."

And that grabbed Xander's attention in a target-acquired sort of way. Maybe he was just paranoid, but anyone who addressed the Slayer with such familiarity on top of the mouth of Hell _had_ to be up to something. A quick glance at Dawn, however, helped calm that particular worry as did Buffy's next sentence.

"Ford?"

"Hey, Summers. How ya' been?" Xander met Dawn's gaze and inclined his right eyebrow. Dawn mouthed back 'Old crush' and Xander gave a knowing nod. He'd probably have gotten that himself given the hand-holding and the googley eyes Buffy was making at the older teen.

Xander mostly ignored the conversation until he heard Buffy say, "- that Divinyls song 'I Touch Myself,'" and had to lift a hand to cover his not-entirely-successfully-smothered smile at her hurried denial and subject change. After sharing another amused look with Dawn he focused back in on the conversation.

"-but, if you guys already had plans . . . would I be imposing?" Xander had no idea what the plans were that Billy-boy was talking about, but he simply couldn't let such an obvious opportunity for a pun go unused.

"Only in the literal sense," he said with a perfectly straight face. After a bit of a double-take, Ford apparently decided that it was a joke.

"Okay, then. I've gotta' find the admissions office; get my papers in order," he said to Buffy.

"Well, you know what, I'll take you there. And I'll see you guys in French,"

"It was good to meet you," Ford tossed over his shoulder at Dawn (Who he apparently didn't recognize as a fifteen-year-old), Willow, and Xander.

Xander just shook his head as they walked away, Buffy practically dragging her old acquaintance before a very random thought struck him.

"Doesn't she know any fat guys?"

"Aw, what's the matter, Xander? Jealous? I bet I could cure that for you."

Which was the second reason Willow and Buffy had him on their shit list at the moment. Dawn's crush on him had gone beyond 'cute and innocent' straight into 'flirting and dangerously sexy.' The words and tone were innocuous enough that they wouldn't have incited comment. Her body language and the look in her eyes, however . . . well, they made it hard to remember that Dawn was still technically twelve, even if no one in any position of authority seemed to remember it.

Xander shot a glance at Willow expecting one of her glares, since, again, this was somehow All His Fault. Instead, her eyes widened. "Oh that's what that song is about?"

Dawn fell off the couch laughing.

XXXXX

Xander, with Dawn practically glued to his arm managed to make it into the Bronze safely despite the fact that they'd made a short patrol of several of the intervening graveyards. Xander had brought the Horseman's helmet with him in his backpack just in case they got swarmed, but Dawn's simple Immolate spell had reduced both of the vampires they'd stumbled across to ash before they got within ten yards of them. Of course, the fact that she could literally sense them coming from _forty_ yards away probably helped.

It was easy enough to spot Willow and Ford. They'd appropriated one of the Bronze's pool tables for a game. And Willow's face was nearly as red as her hair. Dawn took in Willow's expression and her blush and smiled before looking at Ford. "Swimsuit competition?"

Xander smiled at the shocked look that crossed the older teen's face. "Dawn!?"

Ford's jaw seemed almost to come loose at the hinge joints it was so far open. Dawn gave him the first honest grin that Xander had seen since Halloween. "I wondered how long that would take," she said as Billy-boy gave his head a little shake, apparently trying to reboot his brain, but before he could say anything Hurricane Buffy charged into the room.

"Ford!" she exclaimed, "You made it."

Finally getting his brain back in gear he shot her a smile and responded, "Wasn't hard to find."

Willow, apparently glad to see Buffy acting more like herself after the all-day mope-fest tossed out, "Buffy, Ford was just telling us about the ninth grade beauty contest and the, uh, swimsuit competition."

Buffy's eyes got about as big as fifty-cent pieces and she shot a glare at the other L.A. native. "Oh my God, Ford, stop that. The more people you tell, the more people I have to kill."

"You can't touch me, Summers. I know all your darkest secrets."

Once again, Xander couldn't help but open his mouth, "Care to make a small wager on that?" Buffy didn't even bother to glare as she stomped on his foot. Before Halloween it probably would've hurt, but between his increased resilience and his heavy boots, he barely felt it.

"I'm going to get a drink." Buffy declared, studiously looking anywhere but at the founding Scooby, "Ford, try not to talk,"

Buffy walked off and Xander had to concentrate on not rolling his eyes. He grabbed a pool stick from one of the holders, and looked at the table with the intention of joining Willow and Ford in their game before Dawn grabbed his arm and began to drag him out onto the dance floor as the song changed. Dawn had already declared that they were dating, and Buffy was probably going to try and kill him when she found out, but Xander had to admit that it was nice to have a girl head-over-heels for him, even if the only reason she'd decided to act on her crush was Hellmouthy in nature. Oh well, at least Joyce hadn't gone after him with a fire axe yet.

XXXXX

Dawn rolled her eyes as Willow practically fled from Buffy the next day at school. Trust her idiot sister to be totally oblivious to the redhead's weird reaction. How the hell had she managed to survive Vampires for the last two years? Oh, that's right, she hadn't. she'd had a friend there to bring her back after she died. Then, instead of being grateful, she'd treated him like yesterday's trash. _Fucking idiot. _The thought slipped out and Dawn had to strangle the rest of her impending rant stillborn.

Being able to summon and enslave demons was cool. Being able to set vampires on fire was frigging awesome. The fact that she'd grown enough to have the confidence to ask Xander out was beyond cool, beyond awesome, and headed into some realm that left even outstanding in the dust. The temper she'd inherited from her other self, though, was a pain in her ass. So instead of tearing into her sister for her thoughtlessness, she slipped through the crowd to catch up with the fleeing Willow.

She finally caught her outside of Miss Calendar's room, and when she touched her on the shoulder, the hacker jumped a foot in the air and practically yelled, "I didn't do it!" she was starting to hyperventilate before she saw Dawn and began to calm down.

"Okay, Will, fess up. Why are you avoiding my sister?"

Willow bit her lip and looked up and down the hall. "Promise you won't tell Buffy?"

XXXXX

"The only thing I could track down was this address, the Sunset Club. I still didn't find anything incriminating," Willow said as she led Xander, Angel, and Dawn toward the aforementioned address.

"He leaves no paper trail, no records. That's incriminating enough." Angel replied.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to go with Deadboy on this one," Xander snarked.

Dawn snorted, "Will wonders never cease?"

Xander hid a gin and turned toward her with a mock frown. "Quiet you," Dawn just grinned.

"Can we try to be serious here?" Angel asked with an air of martyred patience.

"Sure, Deadboy," Xander replied with a grin.

"And can you not call me that?" Before Xander could formulate a sarcastic reply, Angel reached out and knocked on the heavy steel door. A small window opened up and Angel said, "We're friends of Ford's" without even waiting to be asked. The guard nodded and let them in.

Xander took one look at the floor of the club as they walked in and was immediately glad that Dawn had made him wear a blue shirt and black jeans. He was still out of place, but he mentally compared what he was wearing with a Hawaiian shirt and had to hold back a grimace.

Willow was apparently thinking along the same lines since the first words out of her mouth were, "Wow, we blend right in."

"In no way do we stick out like sore thumbs," Xander agreed. Dawn just rolled her eyes.

"Let's look around. You guys check out downstairs," Angel said.

This time Dawn opened up before Xander could, "By your command, Captain Forehead," Xander couldn't help but smile.

Willow, however, was obviously feeling nervous. "Okay, but do they really stick out?"

Dawn and Xander stopped halfway down the stairs and looked back at Willow. "What?" Xander asked in a tone usually reserved for small children or the obviously insane.

"Sore thumbs. Do they stick out? I mean, have you ever seen a thumb and gone 'Wow that baby is sore.'" Willow rambled as she headed for full-out babble mode.

Dawn just patted the redhead's arm. "Willow, I love you, but you think too much,"

"Yeah, too many thoughts," Xander agreed.

After walking past one guy in a coffin, Xander couldn't hold back anymore, "Are we noticing a theme here?"

"As in 'Vampires, yay!'" Willow asked while Dawn nodded in affirmation.

Xander almost went for the Horseman's helmet, and he saw Dawn quickly disperse a Shadow Bolt as one of Vamp groupies walked up behind them. "You guys are newbies, I can tell,"

Willow quickly tried a fib, which went as was to be expected, given her track record with lies. "Oh, no, we come here all the time,"

"Don't be ashamed; it's cool that you're open to it," the blond said as she clasped an ornate goblet in front of her with both hands. Xander almost couldn't control the urge to check and see if they'd employed that stuff old people used to thicken water to make whatever they were drinking look like blood. "We welcome anyone who's interested in the Lonely Ones,"

"The Lonely Ones?" Willow asked and Xander rolled his eyes. For such a smart girl, she could be unaccountably dumb sometimes.

"Vampires," Angel said as he stepped off of the stairs and onto the bottom floor.

"See, I was thinking more along the lines of Homicidal Ones," Dawn said with a smirk.

"So many people have that misconception, but they who walk with the night are not interested in harming anyone," Xander could only stare at what had to be the single best example in favor of retroactive birth control he'd ever seen. How the hell had anyone so damn stupid survived for so long in Sunnyhell? "They're creatures above us, exalted." And yet another level of stupidity.

"I can see how you'd get that impression," Dawn said calmly, "If you were standing on you head looking at it sideways,"

Angel just rolled his eyes and looked at the girl. "You're a fool," he said, contempt dripping from his words.

"You don't have to be so confrontational about it." She replied, looking like she was about to burst out in tears. "Other viewpoints than yours may be valid, you know," she said as she retreated.

Xander just turned and shot the vampire a look and inclined an eyebrow, "You really are a people person aren't you,"

Angel didn't even bother to address the issue. "I've seen this type before; children making up stories of friendly vampires to comfort themselves in the dark."

"Is that so bad?" Willow asked.

"These people don't know anything about vampires. What they are. How they live. How they dress." Dawn covered her mouth with her hand as one of the club members literally bumped into Angel while wearing an identical copy of his outfit. Xander, however, failed to see the humor in the situation.

"As much as I love a good diatribe, I'm still curious why Ford, the bestest friend of the Slayer, is hanging out with a bunch of wannabe vampires."

"Something's up with him, you're right about that," Willow agreed, never noticing the attention one of the caped club goers was paying to their conversation.

XXXXX

Dawn hadn't quite managed to drop off to sleep when she sensed a demon walk into the kitchen. Any prospect of sleep totally gone for the moment she snuck to the top of the stairs, an enslaving spell on her lips before she realized the demon felt familiar.

A voice drifted up from the living room, "Some lies are necessary." Yeah, definitely Angel.

"For what?"

"Sometimes the truth is worse. You live long enough, you find that out." Dawn rolled her eyes. Her sister was all googly-eyed for _this_?

"I can take it. I can take the truth." Dawn had to physically restrain herself from walking down the stairs and strangling both of the idiots.

"Do you love me?" Dawn just stared down the stairs. Though she couldn't see either of the two-two absolute _morons_ from where she was she could just picture Angel with his broody face and her sister with wide eyes. It made her want to hurl.

Sometimes, eavesdropping on her sister could be both fun and informative. This wasn't one of those times. "Screw this, I'm going back to bed,"

XXXXX

Xander, Dawn, and Willow were waiting for Buffy as she came down the stairs. Willow, being Willow, immediately jumped up and jammed her foot in her mouth. "Did, uh, did Angel?"

"He told me everything," Buffy replied, her tone not quite screaming extreme annoyance.

"When Angel came to my room, he was just really concerned for you," Willow said.

"And not at all stalkerish, I'm sure," Dawn tossed out from her place reclining on the steps, not even bothering to open her eyes. Buffy immediately turned her patented Glare-O-Doom on her little sister. Dawn didn't seem to notice.

Xander, trying to be mature _and_ keep Dawn's head on her shoulders spoke before Buffy could begin to tear strips off of her sister, "Did you find out what Ford is up to?"

"I will," she said and started to turn away.

"You're not thinking of going alone, I hope," Dawn said, her left eyebrow creeping toward her hair line. "I'm sure the bleach soaking into your head hasn't killed so many of your neurons that you could possibly think going there without backup is a good idea,"

"I'm the Slayer, Dawn. I am perfectly capable of handling myself."

The eyes that opened to glare up at Buffy were not the ones that would have greeted her a bare week earlier. "Against vampires I have no doubt that you could, but when we were there I sensed no demons. Could you handle a mage? Or for that matter, what if Ford happens to have a gun?" Dawn's glare at her sister was somewhat more intimidating than Buffy's had been. Something about the sickly green glow in her eyes spoke of an emotion perilously close to rage at her sister's lack of forethought. "All the strength in the world won't save you from a bullet in the head. That's not the way I'd prefer to lose a sister." Though her volume never got above what their High School teachers would have called an 'Indoor's Voice' it grabbed Buffy's attention better than a yell would have, and for the first time since their big reveal after Halloween, Buffy seemed to remember that her little sister remembered fighting things even scarier than what the Slayer had been designed to deal with.

"What do you suggest?"

XXXXX

"No, it won't."

Dawn wanted to grab her sister and shake her 'till her teeth fell out. Buffy couldn't resist a grand entrance. Sometimes that sort of thing was useful. Mostly, though it just spoiled the element of surprise.

"Sorry, Ford, I just couldn't wait till tonight; I'm rash and impulsive. It's a flaw."

"We all have flaws," the darker-haired teen acknowledged, eyeing Buffy as she started down the stairs before switching his gaze to Dawn and Xander who remained at the top.

"I'm still a little fuzzy on exactly what yours is." The bottle blond said before twisting the knife, "I think it has to do with being a lying scumbag."

"Everybody lies," Ford said as the Slayer came to a stop just out of easy reach.

"What do you want, Ford? What's this all about?"

"I really don't think you'd understand."

"Oh, for crying out loud, skip the angst and get to the point already," Dawn said as she shot her sister and her sister's former crush a glare. "I have better things to do tonight than watch _this_."

Ford didn't even bother to look at Dawn having apparently decided that she was a non-entity compared to the Slayer. "I'm going to be one of them." He declared simply. That was the key point, and suddenly Xander and Dawn were both able to connect the dots.

1.) Ford wanted to be a Vamp, but Vampires won't turn just anyone.

2.) Ford needed a way to convince a Vampire to turn him.

3.) Slayers are the dream kill of any Vampire.

Oh, and they were standing in a former bomb shelter.

"Shit!" Xander yelled as he spun for the door, only to see the dork with the blue cape slam it shut.

"Rigged up special," Ford said from the club's floor as Buffy stared at him in shock, "once it's shut, it can only be opened from the outside. As soon as the sun sets, they'll be coming."

While Buffy argued with the idiots and ran around looking for alternate exits, Xander and Dawn shared a significant look. Dawn loosened the ties of one of the pouches on her belt before slipping her hand inside and letting it trace over the crystals inside.

Each the size of her fist, the seven Soul Shards could have been joined in the pouch by another seven without overloading the enchantment that sustained the backpack sized pocket of extradimensional space inside of the wallet sized pouch. As she traced one's irregular outline, Dawn wished she'd figured out how to summon one of the demons she could have called on Azeroth. Instead, she let herself slip into a light meditation as she gathered the energy she'd need to create her Fel Armor, noting peripherally that Xander had the Horseman's helmet out of his backpack and ready on the railing beside him.

"Six twenty-seven, sunset," Ford said from the floor below them. Dawn marshaled the power that had let alternate-her kill, crush, and destroy her way across a dozen battlefields, knowing that if anyone happened to look at her, her eyes would be giving off almost a dozen watts of green light, and settled in to wait. It didn't take long.

Dawn ignored her sister's impassioned plea to the sheep on the floor below, ignored Ford as he knocked Buffy down the stairs. Because the first of the Vampires had made it into her sensing range, and she recognized his demonic signature. Spike opened the door at the top of the stairs, and the twist of will that would invoke her defensive magic fled from her mind, her rage pushing it aside in favor of her Metamorphosis talent.

Dawn didn't notice Chanterelle's look of fear and understanding as she saw Spike's game face and wouldn't have cared if she had she saw only the vampire that had tried to kill her sister and mother at Parent's Night. Black magic swept over her, and where it passed a demon emerged. As soon as the transformation was complete, she took a step forward and used her wings and her magic to launch herself at the peroxide blond Vampire.

The only downside was that Spike saw her coming.

William the Bloody hadn't survived since the Scourge of Europe broke up by luck. He had a well developed survival instinct that had served him well in the past.

It was the only thing that saved his life. In the bare moments it took Dawn to cross the distance between them, Spike shoved one of his minions between them, grabbed Drusilla, and ran with only Dawn's howl of rage pursuing him.

XXXXX

Chanterelle had only a few moments to stare in shock and fear at the twisted, deformed thing that had come for her. She'd imagined beauty and refinement, crafting a fantasy where she'd receive the attention and love from her Vampiric savior that she'd never received from her parents. Now, seeing the malevolent grins on their faces, she realized that Ford's friend Buffy had been telling the truth all along. She had just enough time to feel fear before _something _charged right into the middle of the cluster of Vampires faster than she'd ever seen anything move before.

A female Vampire had just enough time to scream as a clawed hand grasped her head and gave a single convulsive heave. The severed head made it almost five feet before both it and the body it had belonged to collapsed into dust. The snarling black-shrouded thing tore its way up the hall like nothing she'd ever imagined. From one hand a blast of what looked like concentrated darkness tore a basketball sized hole in a Vampire's chest while another simply collapsed, screaming in pain despite never having been touched before its flesh literally began melting off of its bones. But that wasn't what concerned Chanterelle.

What really had her worried were the three Vampires the creature had left behind it in its haste. Vampires that were almost close enough for her to touch. Vampires that looked more than a little pissed off.

She was busy counting her regrets and hoping for a last minute reprieve, though not really expecting one when the black-armored knight with the flaming sword literally took the first Vampire's head off just above the shoulders before thrusting his flaming sword into its companion's chest.

The third tried to run, but, given what was undoubtedly waiting for it up the hallway what happened next was perhaps a mercy.

"Harken, cur 'tis you I spurn.

Now feel the BURN!"

The last of the vampires simply erupted in flames, one second a man-shaped creature, the next a cloud of smoke and ash.

Everyone in the old bunker, people that she'd shared hopes and dreams with over the last week stared in shock at the dust falling through the slats in the grating. Even Ford's friend, this Slayer seemed to be shocked by what she'd seen. But the knight wasn't finished. Even as Chanterelle fled down the stairs, the knight followed the rest of her friends quickly making a path for him that led right to Ford. The black armored knight with his helm full of magical green fire casually grabbed the cause of the whole mess by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet.

"So eager you are, that your blood should spill.

You are treacherous, treasonous, lacking in will.

Your soul's flame has died, left not a spark;

I will send you myself to the lifeless dark!"

And with a single twitch of his wrist the cause of the whole affair flopped to the ground his neck broken, his corpse already cooling as everyone but the Slayer began to follow the knight out of what might have been their tomb.

XXXXX

I'm alive! Yay!

Still not totally bored with WotLK, but my guild has everything but three drake Sarth on farm, so I've got time between class, work, and WoW to write again.

Hopefully a new chapter of IND will follow shortly.

And that's it, I'm goin' back to bed.


	3. Crimson Rain

Well, yet again I'm going to try to do something stupid.

I'm going to _try_ to do a drabble every day in October as a lead up to Halloween. I'm even going to try a theme: Inhuman! Xander. At this point I have nowhere near enough ideas, so, like Mike on Dirty Jobs, I'm asking for fan requests. So without further ado, the October 1st fic!

Anything recognizable doesn't belong to me. If it did I wouldn't be working full time to put myself through Nursing School.

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Crimson Rain

It was the same every time: the look of shock and incomprehension was always the same, too surprised by his sudden entrance to register the brief flash of pain that followed; the second and even the third were similar. After that, the screaming started. Fear-filled faces, each carved cruelly into his mind; eyes filled with terror before they glazed over in death. Ten, fifteen, twenty. More. He stalked through hallways with paper thin walls and fear strode ahead of him while death walked calmly behind.

One man, more skilled than the others or simply too panicked to be afraid managed to draw his weapon. He died before he had time to see the shattered pieces hit the floor. Another half dozen dead and it was over.

Mission accomplished, he retraced his footsteps through the shattered building and left the way he entered leaving thirty-two cooling corpses behind him. From start to finish, the entirely one-sided massacre had taken fifty-one seconds. He jumped from the second story window to the ground fading down his pre-picked escape route as the first drops of blood began to leak through the ceiling and drip, nearly silent to the floor.

Only then did he wake up.

Long familiarity with the dreams was the only thing that allowed Xander to avoid revisiting dinner as he pulled sweat-drenched hair out of his face. He looked around, momentarily confused even through memories of horror.

_This isn't my room, what-_

The book on the floor was a giveaway, and Xander winced when he saw it. Upside down as it was, there was no way it hadn't taken at least some damage. Giles was gonna flip.

_My fault, I should have known better than to try to finish that passage._

Tired as he'd been, it was no wonder he'd fallen asleep. And the only way he could sleep without a nighttime visit was propped up against a wall; the chair was too much like the bed he'd gotten rid of less than two weeks after that fateful Halloween. Too much to hope that he'd be able to get a full night's rest, even tired as he was without something setting off one of the psychological landmines he'd inherited. He glanced at the blanket on the back of the couch longingly, but there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep after that.

_And with Glory on the loose, there isn't enough _time_._

He hadn't gone toe to toe with the Hell Goddess himself, but what it had done to Buffy . . .

_She may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even so beating a Slayer isn't the easiest thing in the world._

After all, there was a _reason _the Vampiric community had held William the Bloody in such high esteem. Killing two Slayers wasn't exactly simple, even when one went at it with a carefully thought out plan.

Not, at least, for things that _didn't _have an even bigger edge on Slayers than a Slayer had on a human.

Which Glory by all accounts did.

So, rest was out, and the book was almost certainly a dead end. Even if it hadn't been, he was simply too full of nervous tension to concentrate on a long dead summoner's megalomaniacal prattle.

_Where won't Buffy be tonight?_

The answer took bare moments to calculate. Considering his former crush's longstanding homicidal behavior around him, it was more important than it had once been to know her schedule.

_Bad enough, in her view at least, that I am what I am. Add dusting Angelus right in front of her . . ._

Rationality and Buffy were not on speaking terms when it came to part-demon, formerly Xander-shaped, former friends. Was it sad that he could no longer quite manage to regret the end of that friendship?

Chikuso_ vampire killed who-knows-how-many people, and when I ended him all she could think of was 'my soulmate's gone.'_

If she'd dusted the demon-inhabited corpse at the mall like she was supposed to Miss Calendar and the Kami only knew how many others would still be alive.

_There was a _reason _I volunteered to take care of the Judge. I warned her that she'd had her chance._

So when Deadboy gone wrong kidnapped Giles and was stupid enough to leave a clean trail . . .

_Soul curse or no Soul curse, letting him live would have been criminally negligent. Sometimes I can get behind 'Aku soku zan.'_

Just like in this case. Not even Buffy was foolish enough to think about anything other than killing the displaced Goddess before she could tear all creation apart around them. Xander pulled his long red hair back into a Ronin's topknot and grabbed the daisho and slid them through the first winding of his obibefore stepping outside his apartment and, after carefully searching the surrounding area with amber eyes, taking to the rooftops.

Even in the modern world, so very few beings human, demon, or otherwise looked _up_.

XXXXX

Well, that's the end of this fic for the moment. I'm debating on throwing in a second drabble set in the same universe as this one nearer to the end of the month. Especially if I don't get enough reviewer-inspired suggestions to do an original each day.

For those of you who didn't get the not-so-subtle clues, this one was a cross with Ruroni Kenshin with Xander as Battousai.

Chikuso: A stronger version of Kuso. (Sort of comparable to Goddamnit! As compared to plain old Damn! Kind of. In a way.)

Aku soku zan: Roughly translated as "Destroy evil instantly"

Ronin: A samurai without a master.

Daisho: paired swords (katana and wakizashi)

Obi: Belt

And that's it; I'm goin' back to bed.


	4. Merlin the Seijin

Another day, another drabble! No Buffy bashing this time.

Standard disclaimer applies.

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Merlin the Seijin

It had been two hundred and sixty years almost to the day before I met her again, and only pure chance that I managed to arrive before the Pe'larak demon succeeded in shoving a sharpened obsidian blade through her chest.

Anything less like the short, blond, Calli-girl she'd been before was impossible to imagine. She was nearly six and a quarter feet tall with skin the color of charcoal and eyes as confused as her former self would have been when confronted by a Calculus equation. It was the work of moments to deduce that she was new to her calling, if not new to facing demons in general.

In this fallen world, no one who's managed to survive their first year of life is 'new' to the supernatural world anymore.

Still, she was struggling with instinct still strange to her, and surrounded by enemies that, given the line of dissolving corpses, now knew what they faced. Outnumbered so badly, with most of the small village's defenders already injured, it _might _have been possible for Buffy to win. But for all that I could recognize the soul behind confused, frightened eyes, this wasn't that legendary Slayer.

Fortunately, she didn't need to be. My wakizashi might be buried to the hilt in the skull of the Pe'larak I'd thrown it at, but I still had my katana. It might not have the literally molecular edge of the shorter blade, but the Battle Steel weapon was more than sharp enough to cut sheet steel even when driven by merely mortal strength.

In _my_ hands, it could slice apart a main battle tank. That was a good thing given the sort of natural armor some of these demons were packing.

_Best get started, these scumbags won't kill themselves._

It was chaos. One supernaturally tough, strong, and fast opponent the demons were ready for. Two? Hitting them from separate directions with (after the girl whose soul had once belonged to Buffy Summers grabbed my short sword) superior weapons? It was a massacre. The demons and vamps had banded together to take down the Slayer once she revealed herself for what she was; she was a threat they understood, one that they knew sufficient numbers and determination could handle.

When I revealed what I was?

"The _Seijin's_ here!?" one vamp screamed a half second before I took its head off.

That was the beginning of the end. Demons that would have willingly faced a brigade of the old U.S. Seventh Cavalry paled (or their own biological equivalent) their nerves shot by the simple pronouncement. After all, the Slayer was fast, strong, and tough.

I moved like greased lightning, hit like an Amtrak, and my simple (in appearance at least) breastplate could take a direct hit from a howitzer with nothing more serious than some scuff marks. A Slayer was faster than most demons, about as strong as the average for her opponents, and, while more durable than a human, not nearly so durable as her foes.

As powerful as flesh, enchantment, and demonic blood could be, battle steel, molycircs, and hard-wired reflexes trumped them.

Before the group of vampires and assorted demons could break and run, I'd already cut down half of them, my battle steel Katana removing limbs, cleaving apart primitive weapons, and splitting hardened demonic carapaces like so many melons. In less than five minutes all of the creatures threatening the small camp of survivors were dead. Things were looking up.

Which is, of course, when things went directly to hell. I don't know quite what I expected when I finally tracked down one of Buffy's reincarnations, but having my own Wakizashi pointed at me wasn't on the list. Expression suspicious she glared at me from behind ragged bangs. "What are you?" she demanded. In retrospect, I suppose if I lived in a hellhole like this, surrounded by demons, with my neighbors the only other humans I'd ever seen I'd be suspicious of outsiders too.

"I am many things," I responded. "The demons know me as a Seijin, a holy man. More widely I am the last of the Watchers, those who guided and trained the Slayer, which, in case you didn't know, you are."

Buffy-who-wasn't was becoming impatient, "That isn't what I meant and you know it! What kind of demon are you?"

_Say what? _That was not one of the questions people usually asked when I saved them.

"Don't play dumb, why don't you have a heartbeat?"

_Oh yeah, this is definitely her. _I'd trained Slayers before and it was remarkable how few of them ever noticed the fact that I seldom 'slept,' never ate more than a bite or two for politeness' sake, or simply always seemed to know everything without having to look anything up. And this girl of perhaps fourteen had noticed my lack of a heartbeat from ten paces away within a minute of meeting me. A pleased smile crossed my lips before I answered her, and I could just see her tense at it. "Very good observational skills. I can tell you didn't grow up in the California educational system this time." I said as I tilted my head and looked her over, knowing that ignoring her demand _had _to be pushing every button she had.

"Answer the question." She said, tensing more and more as I delayed, but I wanted this out of the way all at once, and the elders of the village . . . I didn't even have to glance at them as they appeared from behind one of the wood and salvaged metal structures, the girl's face gave it away. In the bare moment she took her eyes off of me I moved.

The flinch was the hardest thing to account for. I knew it was coming, but not precisely when or to what degree, still enhanced reflexes counted for a lot, and more than two centuries of experience with a sword counted for more. It was the work of moments to take my Wakizashi away from her. Points for determination, though, even without the weapon, she still threw a punch at my short ribs.

Without my armor it might have done some damage to something other than her hand. She fell back clutching what had to be a couple broken metacarpals. "Not bad at all. Still, you need to work on ignoring distractions when you're so close to someone, you can't afford to give them an opening like that. A demon would have disarmed you much more violently. Probably used the limb to beat you to death as well." I turned away before she could do anything more violent than stare at me openmouthed. "Elders," I said with a small bow, "I have traveled many miles with great speed to make it here in time. I would hear of your community's troubles and give you council if you would permit it."

I'd seen the village Elders' type before probably fourth generation post-Fall they all looked ancient, though it was unlikely that any of them were much more than fifty. A life of hard physical labor and injuries sustained from fighting off the local nightlife had aged all of them untimely. All of them were male, and all of them were looking past me with expressions of disapproval.

_Another one of _those _groups_. Understandable, really, the whole community couldn't contain more than six, seven hundred people, tops. With so few people and high infant mortality rates it was entirely predictable that women were expected to spend the greater part of their lives barefoot and pregnant. Slayers didn't fit the mold, and in a community like this, that was dangerous.

We were back in the Bronze Age as far as social development was concerned. There's a reason the word for 'outsider' was the same word as 'enemy' in all early languages.

And if that was true for a member of their own social group, it was doubly so for me. My PICA had to look almost as alien to these people as the demons did.

"Who are you stranger? And why have you come here?" The one in the center, the left half of his face looked like a wax sculpture left too near a fire. Even the advanced sensors I used in place of eyes couldn't tell now if the damage had been done by fire or acid. He didn't look the oldest of the group, but he did bear the most visible scar. Precedence seemed to be decided by a combination of age and combat experience then. I could work with that.

"I have borne many names over the centuries. I have been called Merlin, Xander, Arthur, and Nimue. I have served kings in the council chamber, in the field, and at sea. I have fought amongst the stars and on other worlds. But the name I was born with was Alexander. As for why I have come . . ." I turned to look at the girl who defied her people's traditions and fought to defend them. "I have come to teach her what she needs to know; to fulfill prophecy."

A sudden murmur wove through the on looking crown. I could have picked out individual conversation even with a hundred or two going on all at once. In fact, my recorders were doubtless copying them so I could do just that later, but for now, all my attention was on the men in front of me.

"What would a woman have to do with prophecy? Such things are only spoken of in Council." The capitol letter was audible, and it took no skill at all to discern that the female of the species was Not Invited.

"A woman might not, but you'd best be prepared to make an exception for the Slayer," not being total idiots, the Elders stiffened at my tone. That was just too bad. "One girl in all the world. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the demons, to stop the spread of their evil. And in one specific case, foretold to push them back once more." I said, casting a significant glance at Buffy-who-wasn't. "I don't know about you, but I'd much prefer a world dominated by humans again."

XXXXX

Sorry for how late this is, but I lost four hours this morning to a power outage so its just getting done. Anyhow, this is a cross with David Weber's Safehold series with Xander as Nimue Alban/Merlin Athrawes.

Molycircs: Abbreviation of Molecular Circuitry

PICA: Personality Integrated Cybernetic Avatar, an android body with a human mind, and, arguably, soul inside it. Invented to allow humans to do things that would have risked killing them, PICAs can actually change gender. Though they are limited to ten days operation in autonomous mode, Nimue's PICA was hacked to allow it an unlimited operation time.


	5. The House of the Valorous

Three days, three drabbles. I'm sort of amazed I haven't had to use one of my prefinished 'oh-shit' drabbles yet. Fair warning, Dawn and Xander are both involved in this one. Oh, and the Buffy bashing returns. I almost feel bad about it really, its like making jokes about evil lawyers, just so easy you _have _to do it, even though its so obvious. . . well anyway.

If I owned any of this, I wouldn't have nearly so much debt. On with the ficlette!

XXXXX

The House of the Valorous

Buffy looked on in shock as her little sister took a vampire's head off of its shoulders before turning just in time to duck under another's sloppy roundhouse punch. Almost faster than she could follow, the long blade whipped through the second vampire's legs in a flash of steel before reversing momentum and striking off its head. Before she could come stomping out of the path and ask Dawn what the _hell_ she thought she was doing patrolling and how she'd learned to use a sword so well a huge furred shape dropped off of the mausoleum right beside her little sister.

Buffy drew in a breath to yell at her sister to get out of the way, half expecting the big wolf-thing to strike before she could even get the first word out. Instead, Dawn calmly turned towards it and asked, "So, you see anything else from up there?"

"You mean other than your sister?" a strangely familiar voice asked. Buffy couldn't help but wonder where she'd heard it before since it sounded like it wasn't used to speaking English. Then what it said penetrated. How the heck did this thing know who she was? For that matter how did it know Dawn?

"Yes, other than the bleached blond?" oh, now Dawn was just asking for it.

"Then, no. We'll have to go looking for more if I'm going to take a turn killing them instead of watching your back with the arbalest," It was only then that the Slayer noticed the weapons draped off of the wolf-man's belt and some sort of chest harness.

So, not only was Dawn patrolling, she was patrolling with some sort of _demon _as backup, and she was trusting it at her back with two swords and some sort of huge crossbow. "Dawn! What are you _doing_?"

"Hrm, sounds like my sister's regained the use of her tongue. We must not have shocked her too badly. Damn." She actually had the gal to sound _amused_ about it.

"I'm not kidding Dawn, why are you here and _what_ is _this_?" finally, she seemed to be getting her point across as Dawn stiffened. Maybe the fuzzy demon had her under a spell that made her think it was a friend, or-

"Buffy, do you happen to remember whose group I was in for trick-or-treating last night?"

_Say what?_

"You were with Xander, so? Is that why you're out here? Were you going to see him when this thing cast a spell on you?" Buffy very slowly grabbed the stake she kept shoved up her sleeve, mentally preparing to place it right between the wolf-thing's third and fourth ribs.

"Did it ever occur to you to wonder where Xander was today, Buffy?"

Buffy didn't pay the question much mind; she was too distracted wondering how quickly the thing would bleed out, and where its vital organs were placed. "He was probably goofing off, its not like it's a big deal."

Dawn's look of irritation with her sister turned into a full-blown glare. "Well, for some of us it is a 'big deal,'" she said. "C'mon Xan, just span the Arbalest before you get started. I'm not sure my Earthcrafting is up to that yet."

"No problem Dawn-patrol," the Wolf-thing said, and Buffy's eyes widened.

"Xander?" She demanded, eyes wide. "What did you do to yourself this time?"

Xander, in the form of a nearly eight foot tall wolf, turned a glare on the Slayer. "As I'm certain you would remember if you used your brain for something other than occupying space, Buffy, I dressed in red plate armor last night." A wolfish smile crossed his face. "Ethan simply failed to mention that it was intended to be worn by a Cane."

"Just as he failed to mention that the armor I bought was a _man's_." Dawn said with utter disdain in her voice.

"At least you're still a girl. I'm Canim. Unless something kills me I'm likely to live to see your great-grandchildren, Ara-Dawn." Xander said as he loped off.

Buffy stood immobile for several seconds as her sister and best guy friend ignored her, trying to absorb the idea that Xander and Dawn hadn't changed back with everyone else when the spell ended. By the time she managed to shake off the shock both of them were out of sight headed towards whatever target was next on their list.

XXXXX

Buffy stood facing the Judge, hoping for inspiration to strike and wishing that she hadn't treated Xander so badly that he'd decided to leave. Frankly, she was just glad that Dawn had obeyed her order to stay at home.

At least Oz had figured out that the Judge would come to the mall, so they were at least in place to _try_ to stop him. Assuming they ever came up with a way to take on a demon that she couldn't fight. If nothing else, maybe-

The Judge, followed by Angel and Drusilla stepped into the building, and Buffy realized that her time was up. And she still didn't have a plan to deal with the Judge! Just as she was about to stand up and yell 'Fire!' in an attempt to force the helpless bystanders out of the way, the longest crossbow bolt she'd ever seen flashed in from the right and slammed through the Judge's head with enough force to spin him around nearly ninety degrees. For a moment Buffy thought it was over. The weapon was literally extending from both ears.

The Judge didn't seem to notice the projectile. Buffy, however, had seen its like before. It was what Dawn called an Arbalest bolt. And the only person that could even draw the massive weapon's string . . . _Xander's here?_

"Interesting." The massive Cane said as he stepped out from inside the convenience center booth he'd been hiding in, already spanning the weapon again. "It seems that the description really is right. 'No weapon forged' can slay you."

The Judge just growled and shot a bolt of power at the Crimson-armored Cane. Xander, however was well out of the way before it struck. He bounded to the side and took cover behind the stairs, but-

A flash of something not even Buffy's eyes could follow, and a metal spike nearly a foot long sprouted from the Judge's chest while its twin appeared rammed through a minion's knee. Buffy could only stare. It was an incredibly crude weapon, but Xander's transformed body could put enough force behind it to be truly impressive. Still, for all that he'd pissed the Judge off, and slowed one of the weaker vamps, he'd only bought the panicking crowd a few minutes at best. She cursed herself as she tried to think.

She realized only moments later what the real plan had been. Another vampire screamed in pain, and Buffy turned to look at it, expecting another of those metal stakes. Instead, she saw Dawn, wearing shining silver colored plate and mail stalking through the crowd of vampires near the entrance.

The odds were something like twenty to one, and it was like she was striding through a shooting gallery. The flashing blade took a head, then drew back to knock a hastily thrown bench aside before another slash cut clear through the chest of a charging minion. Four more fledglings fell just as quickly, heads or part of chest and head separated from the rest of their bodies. Then Drusilla stepped in front of Dawn and made eye contact.

"Here now green knight," the insane vampire said, "why don't y-"

"Sorry Dru," Dawn said as she carved the master vampire's head off of her shoulders. "Your Jedi mind tricks don't work on me."

For a moment it looked like Dawn was going to be able to clear the way and get the people out the doors and out of harm's way. That's about the time the Judge's energy bolt hit her. Buffy had made the mistake of kicking the Judge at the warehouse earlier. She knew just how painful a weaker version of that ability was, so when Dawn didn't so much as whimper before rolling out of the way . . .

Yeah. She was impressed. In fact, the Judge looked almost as surprised as she was.

"How is this possible. My magic can consume anything human," He yelled, furious at being thwarted.

Dawn just grinned, and Buffy could see why. With the Judge distracted, Xander was closing, booth crimson swords drawn. "Perhaps it would interest you, demon, to learn what I am." She said with an accent Buffy couldn't place. "What do you say; will you permit me to rectify your ignorance?" The Judge responded with another bolt of power. This time Dawn parried it aside with her long sword. Much to all of the vampire's shock. Dawn apparently took that as permission. "What I am, demon, is a furycrafter. Specifically a metalcrafter, arguably the strongest metalcrafter alive. Your magic would, indeed, have killed me could it penetrate my armor."

The Judge was raising both hands this time to target Dawn's vulnerable face, but he wasn't going to be fast enough Xander's twin swords came down with a massive amount of force behind them, and tore through armor, flesh, and bone before shearing out the far side. Even as he cried out in mingled rage and pain, Dawn stepped forward and struck his head from his shoulders with a flash of blue-green sparks as the edge of metalcrafted steel parted cursed flesh in triumph.

Buffy couldn't help but feel relieved that the people had made it out safely, but now that everything was over . . .

"Dawn!" she yelled, storming towards her sister as the last terrified humans followed equally terrified vampires outside. "You said you'd stay at home where it was safe!" she ranted, "So what are you doing h-"

"Don't call me Dawn,"

Buffy stopped as though she'd physically run into a wall. _What? Why? Is she?_

"As far as I'm concerned, someone like you has no reason to speak to me."

"_What_?" Buffy screeched, furious at her pain-in-the-butt little sister's words.

"Why are you here yelling at me when I purposefully left you an opening to take out the last of those vampires big enough to lead a cavalry charge through?"

Buffy's jaw dropped in shock, "They were running away! They're not any threat. Besides," she said shifting back to the attack, "where'd you get that sword and armor! Did Giles give you permission to take that ou-"

The slap sounded like a gunshot. Dawn leaned over her sister as she sat on the ground holding her bloodied lip and torn cheek in surprise and no little pain, voice full of condemnation. "That's not the reason at all. Even if it was, it would be short-sighted and foolish. Just because those vampires aren't any threat to us at the moment doesn't mean they won't go out to feed tomorrow night, and the night after, and the night after that. How many people did you kill by letting them go free?" Dawn shook her head disgustedly. "But that's not even the point. You didn't go after them because you were afraid that you might find yourself fighting that _corpse_ you fucked." The look of absolute disgust on Dawn's face spoke nearly as loudly to her contempt as her use of invective did.

"You screwed the soul right out of good ole' Deadboy. Yeah, it sucks. Get over it." She said as she tossed Buffy a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding of her face and a business card. By this time Oz, Willow, and Giles were all staring at her like she'd grown three heads with glowing red eyes. "There's a number on that. Don't try to trace it, or I'll get a new one and you'll have no way to contact me. And don't bother calling for anything short of an Apocalypse," she said as she walked over to join Xander at the door.

As they left, Buffy looked down at the simple black ink lettering. It was a name and ten-digit phone number. But the name wasn't 'Dawn Summers.'

Instead, it read, 'Araris Valerian.'

XXXXX

Another crossover that a lot of people probably won't get. This one is with Jim Butcher's Codex Alera. Odds are that this universe, like the RK crossover will be making a reappearance if I don't get enough reviewer requests for crossovers. I've only got another dozen or so ideas.

Cane or Canim: A wolflike humanoid race with three(known) castes Warrior, Maker, and Ritualist. Canes are bigger than humans, stronger than any human but an earthcrafter, and live a _very _long time.

Furycrafter: controls one(or more) of five elements: Earth, Fire, Water, Wood, and Metal. All have formidable abilities. (Earthcrafters are could make a Slayer look like a weakling, firecrafters toss fireballs around and can manipulate emotions, watercrafters heal, woodcrafters can hide small armies, and metalcrafters can increase the toughness of their armor and weapons and ignore fatigue and pain)


	6. A Vampire of a Different Color

Still trucking along. Four days and four fics. I feel the need to warn readers that this is _**not **_PG rated. More R leaning towards increased naughtiness.

Yet again, I don't own any of this, but I would like to point out that imitation is the sincerest form of copyright infringement.

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A Vampire of a Different Color

Xander woke up, stretched, rolled over to check what time it was . . . and promptly fell out of the bed. Xander's eyes shot open. This wasn't his room. Hell this wasn't his house! And he was naked.

_If I was in homeroom, I could safely call this a dream and move on._

A muttered curse drew his attention back to the bed. And the equally naked Cordelia just waking up in it. "Dead gods!" he couldn't help the exclaimation, but now that he remembered what had happened, it seemed appropriate.

_Trust Thomas Raith to decide that correct procedure when a girl wants to 'thank' him for saving her is to accept the thank you! _And he'd ended up back in control of his own body right in the middle of the act itself. _Which, given the fact that I could _feel_ myself draining her life force means she's lucky to still be breathing._

And hell, but that strand of instinct that most certainly _hadn't _been there the night before was creeping him out. That added to the way his Other was nudging him and suggesting that climbing right back into the bed was a _wonderful _idea . . .

"Mmmm," Cordelia said as she rolled over and gave him a very erm . . ._satisfied_ smile twisting just enough to show-

_Not looking, just . . .not. _Xander was just having trouble figuring out why she wasn't screaming rape. Until, at least, instinct pointed out that there wouldn't be much purpose to having the ability to Addict someone if one didn't use it. _I need a wall to beat my head against. It'd feel so good when I stopped. _

"Um, are you okay?" Cordelia asked, sounding more concerned than Xander would have expected.

"Fine," he said, automatically, "I'm afraid I'm just not used to waking up in someone else's house," his mouth didn't even have to consult his brain before spitting out the lie. And empty night, he could _see_ the thought process running through Cordelia's mind, and the decision she was inevitably _going _to reach.

She sat up, letting the covers slide down to pool around her waist, her pupils were already dilating and he heartbeat increasing.

He tried, he really did. His paladin complex was used to warring with teenage hormones, but now that hormones had instinct and his Other on their side . . .

Xander smoothly, confidently, and without a trace of body modesty climbed back into bed.

XXXXX

Giles straightened up from his position behind the library's counter when he heard the swearing. It had become an entirely too familiar event since Halloween. As expected, moments later Xander stormed through the library doors still muttering invective and trying to get the buttons on his shirt fastened straight.

"Who was it this time?" Giles asked trying to hide a smile from the boy, but-

"Harmony." The name was followed by a distinct 'blech' sound, "She just opens up the door of a utility closet as I walk past and drags me in. Even my Other has _some_ standards. I thought for a minute I was going to have to actually hurt her to get her to let go." He finished, turning a half-annoyed glare at the Watcher. "So, any preference for where I should patrol tonight?"

The question really was important, which was the only thing that kept Giles from getting some of his own back for all the times the incubus had used that infernal nickname. Not even Buffy could keep her thoughts straight around the young man for long, so it was essential that their patrol routes not intersect. The one time they had intersected, of course, was the reason Xander now avoided Buffy like the plague. Something to do with threats of amputation after the Slayer came back to her senses.

"So long as you avoid the Bronze and the surrounding area you should be fine," Giles told him. "Oh, and Miss Callendar should be here soon for your magic lesson," Xander had originally gone to Willow to ask for help with his newly emerged magical talent, but he'd ended up doing rather more teaching than learning much to the poor boy's surprise. _He must have been the only one who failed to note the looks Willow gave him even before Halloween._

"Good maybe someday I'll have enough control to turn my Other off the way Thomas's mother did to his father. I still can't believe Harry never even considered it as a way to let Thomas and Justine be together."

As tended to be usual for this sort of conversation, Xander immediately fell silent. _Remembering _a world where the life he lived was nothing more than a fictional television show had to be difficult. Still God alone knew how many lives this young man had saved. Warning Jenny, or rather Jana about the failure of Angel's curse, averting the assembly of the Judge, and the unveiling of the Mayor's plans for ascension just to name a few.

"I'm certain Cordelia will be fine, Xander. Didn't you say Justine was after a time?"

"Yeah, she was. If you count having white hair as 'fine.' But Justine never fell into a coma, either."

"She knew the risks, Xander, even if she didn't bother to tell us why she was all but saying goodbye when she went to you." The watcher said in a soft voice.

"And even that's my fault, Giles." Xander growled out from between clenched teeth. "If I'd been faster, smarter, more _something_! She wouldn't have had to do it," Xander sighed. "Whoever said, 'You only hurt the ones you love,' was as right as he was sick."

Giles watched the young man carefully extract the text he and his teacher would be using for their studies that day and fingered the ring box in his pocket. How unfair was it that Xander lost so much when he already gave everything he could to others? Jenny had been 'scheduled' to die three months ago in that other world Xander remembered. Thanks to him that hadn't happened here, yet he couldn't even touch Cordelia's hair when he went to visit her in the hospital without terrible burns.

Bad enough to lose her at the end of a full life, half a century or more from now when they'd had years together. Losing her like he had, when both of them were still feeling their way into truly acknowledging their love. . . Giles looked at the young immortal reviewing his notes at the library table and said a short prayer that the young man's life from now on would be better than Thomas's. Or the one Thomas's memories said had been slated to be.

XXXXX

Another cross with Jim Butcher's work. This time Xander went as Thomas Raith of the White Court from the Dresden Files.

For those of you not familiar with this cross:

White Court of Vampires: Posess none of the traditional vampire weaknesses, but they also have the least of the traditional vampire strengths. They feed on emotion instead of blood and they are at least as addictive as crystal meth. However, items or persons protected by love so to them what crosses do to BtVS vamps. So a person, say Cordelia, who loves someone and is loved in return . . .


	7. Call me

Five days and five fics. I think I need to get off of my literature kick and back into something people are going to recognize. Another non-Buffy-bashing fic for those of you that like that sort of thing.

Standard disclaimer, yada yada yada.

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Call me . . .

Xander sat in the spare room at Giles's apartment and tried to think. It was the night before Graduation, and they still didn't have a plan with any real chance of success, so, little as he liked it he was going to have to go with his Case Omega and hope for the best.

_Damn it, _he thought looking down at his journal on the desk in front of him and the note he'd just finished putting into it for Giles, _if only the bastard wasn't going to be doing this thing somewhere so damnably _visible_!_

Had the Mayor ascended into full-blown demonhood in the middle of Death Valley or somewhere equally populated the whole incident could have been shoved under the rug as nothing more than special effects. Do it in the middle of town, though . . .

_All the evidence has to disappear or else we risk setting off a whole new series of witch hunts and pogroms as frightened people lash out at anything different._

And dozens of proud parents with camcorders were going to be creating a hell of a lot of evidence. And that was without considering how people would react to the forty foot long snake even if they did figure out a way to kill it.

_This would be so much easier if that rat-bastard hadn't made himself immortal._

But he had, and there was no point crying over spilled milk at this point. So if they couldn't kill him before the ritual and they couldn't kill him after the ritual that left one option. They had to kill him _during_ the ritual. And despite having access to the Books of Ascension himself, Xander had only been able to come up with one way of doing it.

_No, much as I wish it were otherwise, it has to be this way._

And he _would_ prefer that it had been otherwise. Even he didn't exactly relish the prospect of death.

_I'll brief the others on their part of the plan tomorrow. At least they ought to be able to get everyone away in time._

XXXXX

For the first time in months, Xander walked through the halls of his old High School during the day. He could honestly almost say he missed it.

_I only wish I'd had more time. Maybe I could have found a way to end this curse._

He snorted in rough amusement. He was probably deluding himself. With all the time the man he'd dressed as for Halloween had lived, he still hadn't been able to end his curse. What were the chances that Alexander could have succeeded where that man had failed over and over and over again.

_If wishes were fishes then no man would starve._

A quick peek out into the courtyard showed that good ole' Dick was still nattering away at the graduates-to-be and a look at his aura said he hadn't yet invoked the last bit of the ritual. Though if he didn't end his speech soon, it was going to get cut off right in the middle.

Alexander once more marveled at what was to come. Such a small thing to prove the Mayor's undoing, based on a principal of magic he had doubtless overlooked. The moment the ritual was completed and his transformation began, the spell of invulnerability that protected him would vanish. But that last bit of the ritual was a spell in and of itself.

And when the same spell was cast by two warlocks in close enough proximity at the same time each spell was supercharged with four times the energy it would normally have drawn.

_So as soon as you finish the spell, your invincibility vanishes and leaves you right at ground zero of a magical overload powerful enough to vaporize an area half a dozen meters across._

And _there_. The mayor, still speaking, began to draw in power from the ley line beneath the town. Alexander did the same, his lesser familiarity with the spell forcing him to begin saying the words out loud. Words clearly audible to Buffy, Willow, Oz, Cordelia, and Giles via the walkie-talkies they carried.

Immediately, the formal graduation ceremony erupted into organized chaos as groups of teens began herding parents out of the bleachers while another group turned to fight off the vampires sneaking up behind them under cover of the magical eclipse. As he and the mayor both finished the spell, Alexander could only hope that they got away in time.

He felt the spell overloading and looked out the window right at the Mayor who was looking at him wide-eyed. "Bye-bye, Dick," he said as fire swallowed the world.

XXXXX

He woke face down in sand with some idiot saying, "Hey, are you alright?"

A moan escaped his lips and he heard the man kneeling beside him sigh in relief.

"Hey, man, don't move. Let me call an ambulance, you might have a broken neck or something." He ignored his 'rescuer' and began to sit up anyway. "Your funeral, man. Hey what's your name, du-"

The man cut off abruptly, staring into the shadows that served him as a face. He smiled and said, "Call me Ishmael . . . this time!"

XXXXX

Another cross a lot of people won't get. This time Xander dressed as Shade from the book Firedrake by Richard A Knaak, the first book in his Dragonrealm series.

For those of you not familiar with the series, Shade is a warlock who sought to live forever by drawing on magic both good and evil to cast a spell of immortality. Instead of becoming immortal, he found himself stuck in a cycle wherein for one life he served as a champion of good while in the next undoing all his work by serving as a champion of evil. Each incarnation takes a different name to try and differentiate itself from the last, and each tries to end the curse that keeps it from finding peace in true death.


	8. Not Quite a Demon

Six days in and I haven't missed an update yet. Will wonders never cease? One more literature inspired ficlette before I move back to what might be more familiar territory.

Standard disclaimer applies.

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Not Quite a Demon

Alexander strode through the nameless wood, his heart full of sorrow. He had never seen it before, yet memories of Otherwhen spoke to him. He knew what it should have looked like. Trees of silver and gold should have towered into the sky until the stars themselves seemed like flowers upon their branches.

Instead, the leafless trees, those that still stood, were blighted, fungus eating at their bark and boring insects savaging the wood beneath. He strode through the otherworld that was now his true home and wondered how this place had come to be so badly wounded. From what he knew, the Drow should have passed from the world with the last of his kin an age of the world earlier. Either this glade should have perished utterly, or remained unchanged, waiting endlessly for inhabitants never to return.

Curious, Alexander headed deeper into the fallen trees, seeking an answer. Closer to what he presumed was the center of the 'wood, the decay was less obvious and less concentrated. Then, as he crossed into a clear area within the very center of the 'wood he understood.

A great tree, the greatest of the 'wood still stood, a few scattered leaves yet remaining on its branches. And scattered amongst the leaves hung pieces of silver armor, elvish blades glinting in the fading sunlight, and bright jewels like the fruit of a mortal tree. And then he knew in his heart what had happened.

Brilliant emeralds, sapphires, and lapis that should have sung the memories of those who had borne them were silent. _So long, _they seemed to say, _so very long, and we have forgotten the stories we should sing. _Here in the center of the 'wood he could feel it. A doorway, twisted and more than half-closed had preserved this place in its abandonment even as it had poisoned it. Yet, what remnants of elvish magic had persisted here had sufficed. He was not Arafel, weakened by her long, solitary vigil.

Standing beneath the limbs of the most ancient and most protected of the trees, he reached up to touch near-silent gems. _Remember, _he urged them, _recall those long departed. _A few disjointed images answered him, but they were enough. Even dimmed as they were, their master's departed long ages ago, he could still sense the pieces of their souls within the stones; such souls, at least, as the elves possessed. Remembrances of old songs long unsung and laughter long unheard within the grove of sword and jewels echoed through the air once more, and Alexander reached for what power he could claim. The green strength that sustained the elves and all their works flowed back into the Tree of Swords and Jewels. Small injuries healed and the first touches of blight vanished beneath his careful touch. The sun over the Ealdwood set and its pale moon rose while Alexander labored until, near moonset, he opened his eyes and looked upon the great old Oak.

New buds dotted the ends of long barren branches, and a small smile passed over his lips when he saw it. Damaged as it was, this place was not beyond healing, but there was one duty yet remaining before he began his long work. He reached up to stroke the ancient tree's bark drawing just a fraction more power, "Long has this place been silent, forgotten by Men and abandoned by the Elves. So long that you have forgotten much. But now is the season of regrowth as spring follows mortal winter. So know that you were once called Fionn Coille. Remember, and forget no more."

XXXXX

Tara walked down the campus sidewalk trying to match the symbols on her map to reality without much luck.

_I could have sworn the dorm was this way!_

But maybe the way that the sun was busy setting and sending lengthening shadows across everything had tricked her eyes. Goddess knew it wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten lost since leaving home. After a few more moments of looking at unfamiliar buildings and trying to find enough light to read her map, Tara came to a decision.

_I'll retrace my steps; maybe it was that left at the fountain?_

So she turned and began making her way back towards the little woodlot along the path she'd just walked, wishing that there was an upperclassman around that she could stop and directions from.

_Odd, ever since the sun started to set, I haven't seen anyone._

For a moment she started to feel uncomfortably alone on the deserted walkway. Of course it was right about then that the pair of upperclassmen walked into sight around a curve, joking about something given the laughter and their smiles and-

Tara's train of thought derailed. Fangs, yellow eyes, and more forehead ridges than Java Man. And they'd seen her. She bolted, hardly thinking about where she was going other than _away _from whatever those _things_ were. And found herself entering deeper shadows under the trees of the little park area she'd passed earlier.

It hadn't seemed quite so foreboding then. But maybe that was just the laughter of the things chasing her echoing oddly amongst trunks and branches. And then they weren't chasing her anymore.

She found herself pressed into the side of a tree, the monster's fangs blurred towards her throat. Pain. And she was so very cold her hand reaching out for something, anything. . .

Cool metal under her hand, and she swung it as much by instinct as by intent. Dimly she heard a male voice, swathed in cold rage. Then a scream. Then nothing.

XXXXX

Tara had no idea how long she had slept when she woke only that something told her it had been a while. She opened her eyes and gasped because this place was the miniature forest she'd run into to escape the monsters, and yet . . . it wasn't. that place could never have held beauty like this. Huge trees, taller than any she'd ever seen grew up all around her, but they all began to blur together like they were only visible through a thick mist, and it was cold-

And then a hand grasped her wrist, and a face that was simply too _pretty _to belong to a man appeared in front of her eyes. "Take care. It would not to for you to go back to where you came from. Not yet at least. Death remembers you too well and he is more jealous of his prerogatives than he once was."

"Um," Tara tried to say, confused. Then she saw the ears. Pointed ears. So, not a man then. But-and she took a moment to get a feel for the place-not evil either she hadn't had a lot of time growing up to play at make-believe, but one of her favorite daydreams had been seeing the Faerie Courts at the changing of the seasons. If this not-man had helped her . . .

"What is your name," the voice was soft, and she almost answered before she caught herself.

Her eyes met his, then looked down, "I d-d-don't th-th-th-think I should tell you."

The too pretty face smiled, "There is no need for fear, not, at least, among kinsmen."

She forgot her fear, "What!"

XXXXX

Eald: from Old English meaning old

Fionn Coille: from the Celtic meaning Pale Wood


	9. Also not Quite a Demon

Well, since I was apparently too tired to use my brain when I posted yesterday . . .Xander dressed as a generic elf and ended up as a Daoine Sidhe from the book _The Dreaming Tree_. I really recommend the youtube video 'Arafel's Lament' to get an idea of the mythology the book is based on.

This fic finally gets me off of my literature kick. Warcraft fans everywhere will recognize this crossover character. Ooh, and an unconventional pairing alert.

Oh, and standard disclaimer and all that.

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Also not Quite a Demon

Xander stood in his accustomed position on Kingman's Bluff and looked over the town of Sunnydale, once again resisting the temptation to fly down there and . . .

But he'd made a promise. He _would _keep it, no matter how much part of him wanted to throw caution to the winds and-

A deep breath helped calm him. It was approaching Apocalypse season, and the increased output of the Hellmouth during that time of the year always made him more volatile. Not that he could entirely blame the increase in Fel energy for his emotional instability.

Buffy might have ordered him out of Sunnydale after the fiasco with Angel, but Giles was still willing to pass on as much information to the changed young man as he could. And the situation with this Adam _bothered _him. It bothered him nearly as much as Giles' careful silence about certain topics.

He'd _tried _to be more subtle than memories not strictly his said his costumed persona had been when he'd realized his cause was lost. After all, that had been the root of the entire problem that other had faced in the first place. Rejected by the only woman he'd ever loved . . .

It was no surprise he'd allowed himself to make a horrible mistake. Hearing Buffy echo other's words had been . . . difficult.

_Even trying to learn from another's mistakes, I can't seem to learn anything unless I learn it the hard way._

He hadn't told Buffy that Willow intended to try the spell again. Hadn't bothered to even seek Buffy out. How would Tyrande have reacted if she'd been forced to hunt Malfurion? He'd had three reasons for destroying Angelus and only one of them had been selfish.

_First, to spare her the pain of doing it herself. Second, to destroy a creature as twisted as Sargeras and Arthas put together._

Only third had been that he'd wanted to kill the fucking leech since the first time they'd met, and what the scum had done wasn't even an _excuse_. As far as he was concerned, destroying a demonic murderer constituted a _reason_.

Yet Buffy, when she discovered that he'd know what Willow intended, had disagreed.

_And a promise is a promise, even if I made it only to myself. I will not permit myself the mistakes _he_ made. And if I listen to another . . ._

The thought was a familiar one. Once before, he had acted rashly, taking no advice except his own. To place himself at the beck and call of another might permit him to avoid making familiar mistakes. But more and more, he was beginning to question if Buffy was the one whose orders, however unknowingly given, he should take. A demon population fallen to an all-time low under his watch was steadily waxing again. He could _sense _their taint.

It was becoming difficult to stand by and do nothing. However many mistakes his mental houseguest had made-and gods knew he'd made plenty-at least he'd always done what he could. He'd tried, even if others had misconstrued failed attempts to help as deliberate harm.

He cast a look at the campus of UC Sunnydale and wondered again if his own personal Tyrande would call him back or if he'd have to break his promise to himself to help her.

He closed faintly glowing, though wholly blind eyes behind the wrap of rough cloth that covered them. The Slayer was easy enough to pick out, even from this distance. Her aura of magic almost totally unique. With Kendra dead and Faith . . . elsewhere that aura stood out like a neon sign.

It was more difficult to spot Willow. Her aura changed so frequently with the energies she so clumsily sought to wield, it was usually easier to search out the presence of the young woman she'd taken to spending so much time with lately. An anomaly, that girl was. Every mage his other set of memories contained had been tempted by the power they had at their command, and every witch or wizard in this reality had been the same.

Not this girl, whoever she was. He'd never met a saint, but he strongly suspected that that statement wouldn't be true if he came face to face with-

His metal process cut off abruptly. The purely white aura the young woman bore was swiftly being surrounded by deepest black with the twist of shape-that-wasn't found only in the undead. His eyes sought out the Slayer essence again and found it-

He looked away, claws biting into his palms. The soldier. Again.

Rage would have swept over the being the vast majority of his memories insisted he was, but Xander couldn't manage to feel anything stronger than irritation. He never consciously realized he'd chosen to break his promise until the first vampire caught fire and began to scream.

They'd been playing with the girl. A cut here, a broken bone there. She was fortunate, though she probably wouldn't consider herself so. As he read the auras of the undead filth nearest her he was abruptly glad he was effectively blind and even more glad he'd chosen to intervene. Some crimes enraged him more than others. Attempted rape was even higher up the list than murder.

_Not that it would have been _attempted _if I'd been a few seconds behind myself. _

The part of his memories that had lived for millennia couldn't help but put Tyrande in place of the girl trying to cover herself on the ground. "Little undead," he growled out as sickly green eldritch flame began to leak from his eyes, and the tattoos on his chest began to glow, "you truly ought not have done this."

XXXXX

Tara, blinking her eyes in an effort to rid them of tears, looked up at the first scream _not _to come out of her own throat, and stared in shock at the easily eight foot tall, winged, horned demon that had landed less than three feet from her.

Even as he tore through the vampires that had attacked her, she couldn't help but think the worst. After all, what were the odds a demon would help her?

_Well, maybe, if dad's right about me and Mom._

But given her general luck? The vampires he was tearing apart with fire and those two weapons that had appeared out of nowhere had probably been told to bring her to him unharmed or something. The big demon flapped its wings, and shot after the last fleeing survivors with absurd speed, cutting them down with ease. And suddenly it was just her and the demon.

It stalked back towards her slowly, as though giving her fear time to build, and, despite her she couldn't hold on to her attempt at brave silence. "P-P-Please," she got out before her voice broke.

XXXXX

Xander approached the young woman warily, aware of how absurd his caution would appear to an outside observer. Still, if her panic had eased enough for her to cast at him . . . she had _power_ hiding under her tight control. Likely not enough to kill him, but certainly enough to hurt. It was only when he heard her speak that he knew she'd mistaken caution for malice.

"I mean you no harm, human," he said, other memories calling on gruff manor and speech to cover embarrassment. She flinched, trying to cover herself as best she could with what appeared to be a broken collarbone. "And there's no need to keep causing yourself pain trying to cover up. I assure you, I am quite blind. Unless you choose to cover yourself in a faerie fire spell, all I can make out is a rough outline."

Again, he let his other memories handle social interaction while he wracked his brain for something he could do to help the poor girl. A broken collarbone was one of the most debilitating injuries in existence. Trying to move the girl would_ hurt_. Badly. He had no wish to inflict any more trauma on someone who'd likely already need specialized psychiatric help for months. And while none of her individual injuries were particularly severe . . .added together they were potentially lethal.

He thought of and rejected a dozen plans to try and help her. No ambulance would venture out this late, and if he left her to get Giles it was all too likely something would happen along and kill her before he could return.

_Too bad all the magic I know is directed towards killing things in new and interesting wa-_

No, not quite all of it. Half remembered lessons on the slow, druidic magic his brother favored emerged from the recesses of his mind.

_Oh, how Malfurion would laugh to see the Betrayer depending on what he so ridiculed_.

He'd be quite willing to let him, assuming this worked.

The spell had originally been intended to promote regrowth of ill or poorly nourished plants. Hopefully, it would work on a human as well as his brother's efforts to heal shrubs.

He reached out and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder as lightly as he could. He could see both pain and fear spike in her aura as he uttered the barely remembered words of the spell. Then he felt and heard her gasp of surprise as the pain seeped away while broken bone knit itself together and a cut or two nearest his hand closed over as though skin had never been broken in the first place.

For a moment, he couldn't believe it had worked.

"That was earth magic!" the girl's voice was almost unreadable for its quietness, but her aura spoke loudly of amazement.

"Indeed, as it will be when I try to heal your leg and ri-"

Unfamiliar voices half-heard over distance and building air conditioners made him cut his statement short and curse. He'd memorized those auras as soon as Giles had pointed them out to him. After all, it wasn't hard to pinpoint people when they were _that _far underground. Soldiers of the Initiative, and worse luck headed purposefully towards them. And given the amount of vampire dust and scorched earth around he did not dare leave the girl for them to find. Not given how abruptly auras tended to disappear from that place.

"We need to leave. Now," he said and she looked at him in confusion. "By the prickling of my thumbs . . ." he trailed off and he could tell by the change in the girl's general outline that she'd turned her head to look the same direction he was looking.

"B-B-But, couldn't you-" she made a vague gesture with her formerly injured hand as she trailed off.

"I am yet reluctant to kill a person's subordinates for what might not be their crime," he bent down and gathered her up as gingerly as he could, trying not to react to the feeling of bare skin against his chest. Or for that matter, the amount of bare skin. _The vampires must have shredded her clothes entirely. _Trying to distract himself from a potentially embarrassing involuntary vascular reaction, he warned the girl," We need to get out of their range quickly. Try not to scream."

XXXXX

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand another one bites the dust! For those of you who may or may not be as tired as me when you read this, the girl is Tara. If/when I come back to this the pairing will be Xander/Tara.

For those of you unfamiliar with Warcraft Xander went as my most favoritest character ever, Illidan Stormrage, who is waaaaaaaay more complicated than he appears at first glance. Rather than a typical antagonist, he is something of an Anti-Hero, possessing all the qualities necessary to be a hero without quite managing to put them all together. For anyone who cares to know what Xander looks like in this fic, go to youtube and search for 'The Burning Crusade Cinematic Trailer.'

Once again, I'd like to appeal to anyone who reads this for plot bunnies/other ideas. As it stands, I'm going to make it to about day 20 and run entirely out of inspiration.

And that's it. I'm goin' back to bed.


	10. An Immortal Dilemma

Finally, a TV cross, and one that's fairly mainstream at that! Sorry for not updating yesterday, but the Document Manager was FUBARed again.

Standard disclaimer, et cetera.

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An Immortal Dilemma

Xander sat up and took a deep breath, reflexively feeling for the sucking chest wound that had done him in this time before he remembered.

_Not a vampire. Can't ever be a vampire. _

And that alone was worth all the shit he'd taken since that Halloween and his Highlander costume.

"You okay?" the voice was _almost_ a surprise. Even as used to hearing it as he was, first impressions counted, and Faith hadn't seemed like the emotional type.

"You know, that when I come back I heal damn near anything," he said, a faint smile taking any sting out of his words. "Besides, better me than you."

"I just . . ." she trailed off, her eyes falling.

"You feel guilty, because it still hurts me, even if you _know _I can stand right back up again," another small smile crossed his lips. "We've been through this before, Faith. You've just got the one life. As far as we can tell, I no longer have an expiration date."

An actual smile crossed the dark-haired Slayer's lips at the joke. "Still no reason to let B slice ya' up like that. I thought you had like, five centuries of experience using that sword?"

Xander accepted the teasing for what it was and responded in kind. "But if I let her cut me up, she gets to think she's winning." He grimaced a bit and his mood became more serious. "Besides, she really did catch me by surprise with that attack. It was such a _stupid_ thing to do, I never anticipated it."

"Ah, yes, B's best friend. Dumb luck," Faith griped before shaking her head and switching topics. "By the way, G sent us the newest info on the whole mess with the Mayor, and since I recall you saying something about work before play yesterday . . ." Faith purposely allowed her voice to trail off.

Xander smirked at her. "Well now I do recall something like that being said. Lets get the work over quickly so we can move on to the _important _part."

XXXXX

Faith stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp from her shower and quickly peeked in at Xander's sleeping form. He'd been running all day yesterday chasing that idiot demon summoner, and less than half an hour after they'd managed to _finally _hit the bastard with something that'd kept him down they'd run headlong into B.

_And, of course B decided to continue her running quarrel with X._

Faith understood the need to take revenge. After all, when she'd first showed up in good old Sunny-D she'd wanted nothing so much as a chance to kill the vampire that'd taken her Watcher-the first person to ever give a shit about her-away from her. She hadn't thought she'd _get _that chance, but she'd wanted it.

She'd occasionally devoted the off hour to wondering what would have happened to her if it'd been B she met in that graveyard instead of X. And how . . . not odd precisely, but something akin to it, that the loss of the first person to care for her had led to her finding the second.

Faith had never dared to hope, growing up, that she'd ever find someone she'd want to settle down with. Now, though.

_A house, a dog, even some kids._

She'd even let him put in a nice white picket fence. If bad came to worse, there were plenty of uses for partially sharpened bits of wood.

First, though, they had to deal with the Mayor in a suitably permanent fashion. Still looking at the man who'd saved her life on several occasions and, quite possibly, her soul on others, she gave into temptation and dropped her towel.

_Who knows, maybe not all of those rugrats'll be adopted. I know there's some scientific principle that tells ya' to experiment before jumping to conclusions. _Faith smiled. _This_ was education she could get behind.

XXXXX

A short one today, but I'm so close to exhausted as makes no difference and I'd've had trouble maintaining coherency with anything longer. For those of you who don't recognize the cross, its with Highlander.

Once again, I have to do my Mike Rowe impression and ask for ideas. Y'know you've got some :)

And that's it. I'm gonna go crash.


	11. Degrees of Separation

Another day, another dolla- wait . . .

Sorry, I'm running out of clichés. Standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Degrees of Separation

Xander stared at the castle before shaking his head in disbelief and staring some more.

_The universe is out to get me. There is no other possible interpretation._

The castle didn't look the same as he remembered, but some sense told him it _was _the same. After all, an embodiment of chaos didn't have much use for a constant form.

_The first time it visits the Americas, and it has to pop up here in Sunnydale. Wonderful._

He turned around and reentered his apartment, making his way to his bedroom, and opened the trunk at the foot of the bed setting the folded cloak on top aside before carefully extracting polished armor: breastplate, spaulders, enchanted gauntlets and helmet, greaves, and boots. Well practiced, it took less than ten minutes to get fully geared up. The last things he grabbed as he went out the door were his shield and the Mourneblade from their place beside the door.

Before his first fight with Adam, he'd have had to go looking for his rings, too, but given the advantages they gave him while remaining low profile; he simply didn't take them off anymore.

_Hunger_ Whispered up from his side where the Mourneblade was sheathed. _Will to Power/Will to Slay. Hunting?_

The sentient demonic sword was, as ever, ready to fight. "Hey, Xander-" The man in question turned to look at Buffy who was staring at his armed and armored form. "Um, did I miss something?"

Xander blinked in surprise and looked at the clearly visible castle. _Oh, I have _such _a bad feeling about this. _If Buffy couldn't see it, then it was being deliberately hidden. That meant one of two things. _Either its here for me, and the invisibility thing is a hint to come alone, or its here for someone else, _'someone else', in this case was likely Buffy, _and whoever's in charge over there thinks he's hidden._

Some days it just wasn't worth the effort to crawl out of bed. "Just going to do some training, Buff," he said.

"Wearing that? All that?" she asked. "Are we expecting another Adam or something?" she asked somewhat apprehensively. Given that Tara _still_ couldn't look at him without turning absolutely white with fear of the magics he'd unleashed in that battle. . .

"Nah, nothing like that. I just need to keep in practice, and for that I need to occasionally get out of the apartment and exercise in full plate."

"Oh, okay," Buffy said, and bit her lip apparently trying to decide whether she should say something before visibly deciding against it. "Have a good day," she called over her shoulder as she left.

Xander momentarily felt guilty for lying to her, but . . .

_If that castle is what I think it is. . . she is not prepared._

XXXXX

It was easier than it should have been to make his way into the castle that was _far _bigger inside than it looked. Such was the benefit of being formed of pure chaos. Whoever commanded the magic of this place, if it was commanded at all, had become terribly lax. That argued, in turn, that it was _not_ his adopted persona's father in charge.

That would make things of so very much easier. Shifting his form to that of a simple fog, he drifted through the halls of the ancient building, senses tuned until-

Impossible. Buffy stood before a vampire. One of this world's demonic kind. Her expression almost blank. She was fighting the vampire's compulsion, but not quite able to overcome it.

"So you saw the one I sent you to find? The one who has made it so difficult for me to enforce my will upon this place? And you let him _leave?_" the undead scum was fairly frothing at the mouth.

Buffy answered haltingly, as though she was sleep talking, voice untouched despite the war of emotions on her face, "He was armed with powerful weapons and armor. You told me not to endanger this place unnecessarily. His magic is powerful enough by itself."

This was just not on.

Xander allowed himself to reassume a human form just inside the doorway, transferring his magic from maintaining his mist form into a powerful counterspell. The mind control magic shattered like glass, and the vampire physically recoiled as the backlash of the severed magic hit him. It was all that saved him from Buffy's wrath.

Twice he evaded blows before casting a glamour that made it appear as though he'd transformed himself into a bat. Buffy tracked the bat, while the Vampire backed off.

Until Xander teleported behind him. Another counterspell and a quick shift into an arm bar, the underpowered demonic vamp unable to escape the hold stopped him from escaping nicely. "Hey, Buffy, lets play a game." Xander suggested to the visibly enraged Slayer. "Six degrees of Separation. Me and this scrub. Care to point something out to him?"

The blond slayer's rage was swallowed immediately by anticipation. "Six degrees is way too easy; all I need is three," she said, her eyes turning their gaze to the vampire's face. "The Dracula wannabe on the floor there imitates the real Vlad Tepes Dracula. Dracula was the father of Adrian Farenheight Tepes. You dress as Adrian Tepes, aka Alucard for Halloween."

The figure on the floor had managed to turn even paler than the average vampire, and, by the end of the game had even begun whimpering. Xander sneered down at it as he drew the Mourneblade feelings of _Thirst! _and _Strike the Killing Blow! _tingling up his arm. "Correct. I think I'll take my family's property back now, charlatan."

What passed for the revenant's spirit at least dulled the weapon's hunger for a time, given that he himself didn't need to borrow any of it to heal. _At least the filth was good for something._

XXXXX

As if the name didn't give that one away to any fan of the Castlevania series. For those of you not in the know, Alucard of the Castlevania universe in the Dhampir son of Dracula and his wife Lisa and a longtime ally of the Belmont clan.

And that's it. I have to work again tonight, so I is going back to bed.


	12. Be Ware

Tenth day of October and ten ficlettes. Anyone else think that the Nobel Peace Prize is now a joke?

Standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Be Ware

Xander looked at the field of battle. The lines were drawn as he'd predicted. Glory apparently thought Dawn was untouchable at the top of her tower. Had the arrogant bitch bothered to ask questions in town, she might have learned otherwise.

Or perhaps she had asked, and no one had remembered. People had such short memories sometimes.

_Three years is probably enough time for it to happen, given how easy it is to forget unpleasant thoughts in this hellhole, _he considered as Buffy and the others moved in.

Even now, he wouldn't have known that Dawn, that his . . . that the whole universe was in danger if Giles hadn't left a message with his answering service. He looked out once more as the Slayer and company organized their assault, his experienced eyes peering carefully to discern both sides' strategies.

_Sometimes, I don't know why I bother. _He took another look, just to be sure, then sighed and removed his trench coat. _Who'd have thought wearing dad's old coat that night would lead to this? _He had rather a different outlook on causality than most now, but he thought that even others would find the irony of a Nazi stormcoat in his drunken parent's possession hilarious. Had they known what it was worth, they would have long ago sold it for drinking money. _Ignorance and coincidence, or destiny?_ That was an imponderable question, even for him.

He draped the coat over the edge of the roof he stood on and _blurred _strength of leg and will pushing him to the top of the tower faster than eyes could follow. A similarly quick movement batted the idiot with the knife off the tower and halfway across town.

Dawn flinched at his sudden appearance before her eyes opened wide. "Xander?" she asked disbelieving.

His expression eased, permanent frown reversing into a momentary smile before his left eyebrow arched even as his right hand indicated the manacles locking her down.

"Well, duh, you should open them! Its not as though I was up here for my health!"

His close-lipped smile returned for a moment to acknowledge the quip as he reached down at more human speeds and casually shredded the younger Summers sister's bonds. He helped her up and again inclined an eyebrow at her in question.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Now get down there and keep my sister from getting anyone killed."

He nodded, but before he left, he unhooked his gun belt and pressed it into Dawn's hands. The ammo in those two pistols ought to come as an unpleasant surprise to the fist thing that came up the ramp. He tilted his head at her then looked carefully between the guns and her face.

"Yes, I still remember how to shoot. Now get out of here; I'll be fine for a few minutes."

Xander gave her a small bow before jumping off the top of the tower, his will propelling him down at several times terminal velocity. He landed just as Glory was beginning to walk towards a downed Buffy, the tremor he caused as he hit was sufficient to unbalance even the hellgoddess.

Glory shot a glare back at him before giving a sigh. "Do you mind?" she asked "I'm in the middle of something here! Have you ever _heard_ of courtesy?"

For some obscure reason the vapid bitch reminded him a little of Cordelia, though the two looked nothing alike. Maybe it was the tone she spoke in. Xander, though, wasn't devoting much of his attention to those thoughts. He was too busy analyzing the way his opponent moved, how she held herself. Everyone had weaknesses, he simply needed to find-

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Liste-"

Xander tuned the rambling out he was too busy noting Willow's expression; she looked remarkably like she'd just been slapped with a dead fish. The blond beside her, though . . .

_She sees what I am. _

And she had the good sense to be afraid. Why the heck was this girl with _Willow _of all people. And that they had been _with _each other in the biblical sense was obvious given his sense of smell. The combination of power and common sense should have had the poor girl running from the redhead at near light speed. So what was it that-

_Ow. _Xander thought as he picked himself up off the ground to face the fuming hellbitch. _Maybe I shouldn't have ignored her so thouroughly._

Though given she'd probably hit him at full force . . .

_Bitch hits like a girl._

The surprised look that passed over Glory's face was priceless as his grin bared literal fangs. "What the hell are you?"

Xander didn't bother to answer. He blurred forward and struck, knocking the hellgoddess ass over tin cups and through a wall.

He was behind her before she landed catching her in the back of the head with a savage elbow strike that flipped her back out of the building in a near boneless sprawl. She managed to get to one knee and shot a glare towards the building he'd been standing in. she was obviously surprised when she met the eyes of a wolf eight feet tall at the shoulder and nearly thrice that long staring back at her from less than a foot away.

_That's right, bitch. Smile!_

XXXXX

The fight had been the most satisfying he'd had since the mess that had been Junior year Halloween. Given that Glory had survived for three minutes only because he'd been playing with her . . .

It had been enough, though. The wolf was quiet for the first time in years, Dawn was safe . . . it would have been perfect if Buffy and Willow would _stop talking_.

"I'm not going to ask you again. Why are you here! I told you to-" he tuned them out again as he put the stormcoat back on and fastened it so that it covered everything from his feet to his nose. Dawn's voice made him focus back in on the conversation.

"Christ, Buffy, he obviously came to save the world. You know, what you're supposed to be doing instead of the horizontal tango."

Classic Dawn. Irreverent, amusing, and socially unacceptable all at once. His high collar masked his grin.

_Your quip-fu is strong, young one._

"Oh, you are _so_ grounded. Mom might have put up with that, but I won't."

_Wait, what? _And Dawn looked like she was about to cry. _No one _made Dawn cry.

"Come on, butt pain, we're leaving whet-"

"No." Everyone turned to stare. His voice was harsh from long disuse, but the word had been clearly audible. For that matter, it had shocked him almost as much as it had everyone else. A simple statement, but one that spoke volumes. Dawn read everything into it just as easily as she usually read his expressions, and the ready tears faded.

"Really?" she asked.

He nodded. _Without Joyce around . . ._

"Wait a minute!" Buffy tried to interject, but Dawn was already moving toward him.

_There's no way I'm leaving the poor girl again._

Xander scooped his 'daughter' up and headed back towards her soon-to-be-former residence to pack. After all, it wasn't like _Buffy_ could stop him.

XXXXX

Another one in the can! For those of you who didn't get it, Xander dressed as The Captain from Hellsing. Who, despite being a Nazi scumbag, is a total badass.

Oh, once again, I'd like to beg for more ideas for Inhuman! Xanders, I still don't have enough.

And that's it. I'm goin' back to bed.


	13. Sewers Aren't Just for Vamps

Day eleven and I've been ready each time(even if wasn't once). Of course, all of these ficlettes have been so much fun to write that its been relatively easy. This cross, in general, has been done before, but only once that I know of, and only in general, not specifics. If anyone knows of another time its been done, I'd love to read it cuz, again, this is one of my favorite characters ever.

As usual, standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Sewers Aren't Just for Vamps

Xander moved through the network of sewers, access tunnels, and natural caves under Sunnydale like one born to it. Of course, after Halloween . . . well he _was _born for it now. More or less.

Still, hunting in the vampires and demons back yards, as it were, was the best way he'd come up with to keep his skills sharp just in case they were ever really needed again. moving silently wasn't a problem even with the inevitable detritus underfoot, neither was 'seeing' under the low light conditions. Especially since he didn't need light to see at all.

A half-heard sound made him stop and refocus his attention. This might not be as dangerous as some of the places his memories contained, but a mistake here was as potentially lethal as one there would have been. So he drew himself up against the wall, shifted his cloak about him as camouflage, and waited. The vampires never saw him, never smelled him, never knew that he was there. Not, at least, until the last one in line vanished into dust.

"What the hell?" the next one up yelled as he spun around to stare behind him. The others reacted by turning around to stare back the way they'd come and then by swearing and yelling. That in turn was why no one noticed when the one who'd been at the front of the pack vanished into dust just as swiftly as his companion had. All of them, however, noticed when two of them right in the middle vanished into dust. _That_ was when the panic set in.

Xander watched the chaos from a pipe near the ceiling as he reloaded his two hand crossbows. _I knew there was a reason I watched all those episodes of Batman as a kid._

It looked like one of the older vamps was about to do the smart thing, and run. Couldn't have that. Faerie Fire covered it from head to toe before a crossbow quarrel caused it to disintegrate into flecks of dust. Only natural for the vamps to assume the fire was responsible, and since there were only three left . . .

Xander made no sound as he levitated to the ground along one of the walls, made no sound as he moved towards the remaining vampires, carefully remaining behind fallen masonry, and he made no sound even as enchanted steel cleared leather. He dropped a globe of darkness over the vampires and pounced. He might not be as strong or fast as one of the demons he hunted, but he was far more skilled, he was calm while they were all near panicked. And he was used to fighting blind.

His left-hand scimitar flashed up and across just above where he'd last seen the neck of the vampire that was his first target to account for its flinch-

Icingdeath bit through flesh and bone and was free. _One down._

He landed and let his right-hand blade spin _out_ and _hook_. Finding its legs tangled together, the second vampire dropped with a cry of surprise that became pain as Twinkly quickly hamstrung it.

The third bolted. It ran out of the sphere of absolute blackness . . . and right into a wall. Xander took its moment of confused immobility to stab down into its shoulders with both blades severing muscle and tendon before lashing out with one foot and splintering a knee. The vampire screamed in pain and fear, but Xander ignored it as he quickly sifted through its pockets. An inner coat pocket yielded a wallet which Xander tucked away. A single slice of steel later. . . _and then there was one_.

It had tried its best to crawl away, sobbing in fear and pain, but with both legs effectively dead weight . . . snowflakes in Sunnydale had better chances. A thrust from one sword left the vampire a quadriplegic long enough to be searched before a strike from the other left him dust. Shifting his eyesight out of infrared mode, Xander risked a look at his watch and grimaced. He was going to be late. Hopefully he'd be able to make up enough time en route to avoid being Very Late and getting to spend a night on the couch.

XXXXX

Willow stood in front of the lower entrance to the house she and Xander shared, a glare settled firmly on her face. He'd called to tell her he was on his way home an hour ago. He should have _been _home half an hour ago. So instead of letting her worry show, she glared.

Finally, five minutes later, dinner definitely cold on the table now, the wards on the door dropped and her sort-of husband came inside. The glare intensified by at least half a point on the You're-so-freaking-deadometer and she started tapping her right foot on the floor, arms crossed over her chest.

A sheepish smile crossed Xander's face. "Sorry I couldn't call, but you know how cell reception is in the tunnels,"

_Which means he didn't want to take the risk of being seen which, in turn, means he was dodging demons. _The glare disappeared and the foot stopped tapping as she shrugged. "I worry," she said as she hugged him.

"I know, and its cute too," he dragged a pair of wallets and a money clip out of one of the innumerable pouches in his carefully reworked armor and tossed them on the counter of a house that had once belonged to a psycho robot. "Not that we need the money, but that should be enough to cover all the bills for the next couple months."

Xander pulled her into a hug, and they just held each other for a few moments before he stepped back and ran a hand over her just-starting-to-show abdomen. His look asked the question and she nodded, "Yes, we're both fine. But I'm hungry and supper's cold, so _you are_ going to help get it warmed back up, buster. Capiche?"

Xander just smiled, "Yes, Dear."

XXXXX

A different pairing this time! I do occasionally like a good Xander/Willow story. For those of you unfamiliar with the Forgotten Realms, Xander dressed as Drizzt Do'Urden, one of the few Drow to ever join the surface world in anything resembling a peaceful manner. And can you imagine the fun a Drow could have with Sunnydale's system of underground tunnels?


	14. The Dance

And in keeping with the tabletop RPG theme . . .oh, and expect weirdness while I was writing, this fic steered itself out into left field on me.

Also, standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

The Dance

Xander leaped backwards gracefully, allowing the flip-belt to aid in stepping down the stress of the jump contemplating the oddities of the universe for a moment. _Ah, Halloween, that most wonderful of holidays. If I ever see Ethan Rayne again . . ._

That thought was immediately cut off. The Dance required every last scrap of attention a performer had; there was none to spare for idle speculation, no matter how much a certain Chaos Mage deserved a Kiss. So Xander spun through the remembered routine spiraling and twisting through the forms perfectly. In fact, the performance was nearly over when a gasp finally disrupted the rhythm and concentration necessary to maintain one of the incredibly difficult act that made up a Masque.

Buffy was staring from across the room, her mouth fallen open. Xander smiled, though she wasn't able to see it through the mask across her friend's face. "Xander?" she asked, "Is that you?"

"Yes, Buffy, it is." Xander answered. The voice was still strange just as it had before, just after the spell ended. Xander reached up and removed the mask. "I don't suppose you happen to have caught the person behind this? I would dearly love to introduce him to the Harlequin's Kiss."

Buffy stared, her mind apparently moving as well as a bicycle disconnected from its wheels. "Xander?"

"Yes, we've established that."

"Oh." Buffy said, still staring "So is it just the face, or . . ." she trailed off, making vague gestures at herself.

"Well, the proportions ought to be about the same, but I'm somewhat taller than you. Not that I'd object if you wanted to perform an inspection."

Buffy appeared to be about to swallow her tongue. "You're a girl!?"

Xander glared at the Slayer, "Yes, we've been over this though technically I'm _female _the word 'girl' implies _human_ which I'm not." Xander said, her very feminine lips pressed together in a scowl. "That's one of the reasons I'd like to liquefy Ethan's organs."

Buffy still appeared to be broken. "You're a _girl_!?"

"If it would help you believe me we can strip down and compare notes," Xander responded somewhat waspishly and Buffy blushed. "Now before you start demanding explanations, I'd prefer to wait for Giles and Willow so I only have to go through this once . . ."

XXXXX

Xander, or rather, Lexi as she was now called lay in bed and wondered just how much flack she was going to catch tomorrow when the _other _person in her bed woke up. She ran a hand through her brilliant ruby tresses and in a nervous habit traced the outline of her non-standard pointed left ear. At least, non-standard on a human. For an Eldar? Par for the course. Lexi wasn't particularly in awe of her almost Elvish features, but she definitely preferred them to the bruises she was probably going to have when Buffy woke up.

_Damn stupid ghosts. _

On the other hand, better bruises than what would have happened if Buffy had been the one to get shot. The Slayer was _human_. Lexi at least had Wraithbone to protect herself. The thickness might not have been enough to serve as protection in the far future she remembered, but against purely 2nd M.E. firearms? Even the little bit of 'armor' a harlequin wore was enough.

That however, was far secondary to what Lexi was afraid was going to happen in a few hours. The Slayer was almost as fast as she was and far, far stronger. Lexi knew that her own emotions had been messed with, however, she had no idea if _Buffy's _had or not.

_Damn Eldar emotions anyway. _The books weren't wrong when they said that the Eldar felt more intensely than humans did. Somehow, though, she suspected that Buffy wasn't going to wait to hear an explanation if she woke up pissed.

_Oh well, so far she's had sex with a vampire and an alien. I wonder if it counts as normal because we were both men once upon a time, or if it's more a case of necrophilia and bestiality since neither of us is human now?_

She chose to ignore the irritating voices in her head for the moment. There'd be plenty of time for recriminations later, she was sure. For now she just wanted to lay in her new bed and enjoy not being alone. _I'm no Farseer, the future can take care of itself._

XXXXX

And that's a wrap! Like I said, this one got a little odd on me while I was writing it. No real reason to do a gender swap, it just sort of wrote itself in. Maybe my muse decided I needed practice thinking upside down and sideways.

For those of you that don't like gothic space opera, Xander dressed as a Harlequin. A subculture of Eldar from the Warhammer 40k series.

Harlequin's Kiss: The Kiss appears to be a simple tube attached to the forearm. However, as a Harlequin drives this tube into his victim, the tube unleashes a monofilament wire which enters the victim's body and wildly lashes around inside them, liquifying their internal organs.

Flip-belt: a belt with a small anti-gravity device that makes a Harlequin even move agile than an average Eldar.

And that's it! I'm goin' back to bed.


	15. A Valentine for Halloween

Day . . . what day is it again? I think my brain is about to turn to mush and dribble out my ears.

As usual, anything recognizable is owned by someone who is not me.

XXXXX

A Valentine for Halloween

Xander stared into the mirror and fingered the scar. Or maybe it should be The Scar. He wondered if he closed his eyes and _searched_, would he find Chaos waiting for him? Xander shuddered, once again rubbing at the Protomateria scar as he flopped back onto his bed.

Xander's biggest concern at the moment, though, wasn't The Scar or what it represented. He was firmly in 'one step at a time' mode. On the Hellmouth red eyes were going to cause a negative reaction. As was the golden claw that had replaced his left arm from the elbow down.

_On the other hand, is there really any reason to go to school? Vincent wasn't exactly ignorant after all._

That still wasn't going to solve all of his problems. A GED was respectable enough especially if he had one before he _could _have graduated from High School. However, the sort of jobs one could expect to get as a High School grad weren't nearly as profitable as they'd been a century before. Keeping Cerberus in shells that would all have to be custom made was _not_ going to be an inexpensive proposition.

Xander closed his eyes and let Vincent's instincts in, plotting how to make the next few days if not pleasant, at least survivable.

XXXXX

Xander glared up into Buffy's eyes, Cerberus pressed firmly against her sternum. For a moment, he thought that even that wouldn't be enough to get the idiot's attention. After a few moments, her fist dropped back to her side, though the rage in her gaze hadn't diminished

"Bastard." She growled at him as she stepped back when he pressed harder. The clawed 'fingers' of his left hand dug into the wood of the library's table as he used it for a hand up. He reached up and, with a sick _crunch_ set his broken nose ignoring the blood that ran from his nose and split lip.

"And what, if I may ask, did I do this time?" he said, as reasonably as he could while fighting for time. Considering the fact that Chaos was clawing at the back of his brain really, _really _wanting to start removing limbs . . . well having the question come out annoyed was better than cleaning Slayer off the walls.

"Bastard," she repeated, "Don't _even_ act like you don't know! You killed him!"

"Really, Buffy? I don't recall killing anyone. Now, I do seem to call burning a murderous corpse, but that's an _it _not a _him_."

"Don't you split hairs with me, you fucking bastard," the blond Slayer growled from between clenched teeth. "I've suspected you for a long time and now I have proof!"

Xander blinked. _Say what, now?_

"Xander wouldn't have killed Angel; he wouldn't have taken my soulmate away from me!" the girl ranted as Xander stared, "I'll track you down and _kill _you, demon!"

Then Xander got it. All the odd glances he'd gotten from Buffy since Halloween, the worried looks from Willow . . .

And abruptly cracked up in the first genuine laughter he'd indulged in since he woke up with the Protomateria scar. "You've honestly convinced yourself of that, haven't you? Does it make it easier to hate me if you decide I'm a demon?" his smile became a sneer. "Delude yourself all you want Slayer, the truth is the truth even when its unpalatable."

"I won't let you keep using Xander's body like this. For my friend, I'll make sure the _thing _wearing his face is destroyed!"

Xander just held his gun on her as he backed out of the library doors. Having Buffy out for his blood was going to make Sunnydale . . . uncomfortable for a time. As he passed through the front doors and launched himself to the top of the fence he heard Bu-_No, _the Slayer_, the Buffy I fell in love with is gone. Lost in this idiot's delusions._-running down the hallway in pursuit.

Xander let her open the doors before the confuse spell hit her like a freight train.

XXXXX

Xander scouted the area carefully, inhuman grace standing him in good stead as he prowled the rooftops just after sunset looking for . . . something. He was having trouble believing he was back in Sunnydale after . . .

_Dead gods, has it really been five years?_

It didn't seem like nearly that long, but then when one has been to twenty countries on five continents hunting demons, rogue magic users, and the more human scum of the Earth-Xander did a double take. The girl walking the sidewalk below him was really familiar somehow, but who . . .

He mentally subtracted five years of growth, and, "Dawnie?" the name slipped past his lips without his consciously ordering it. Luckily it had been soft enough not to be heard over the everyday noises of Sunnyhell. Looking, Xander could tell why he hadn't recognized her at first. Little Dawnie had done a lot of growing up in half a decade.

Xander shook his head and firmly put his eyeballs back in his head. He doubted Dawn would be happy to see him after five years of listening to Mentally Disturbed Barbie call him a demon. The other girl walking with her, though . . .

_A year or so older than Dawn; not as old as me._

And she walked confidently. Like other memories remembered Tifa walking. _The 'I'm hot and I can break four bones before you can blink' type. _She was a brunette, and she had . . .well, some things other than her _walk _reminded him of Tifa too.

In fact, something about her was bothering him, a twitch of memory that refused to quite come within reach. He jumped from roof to roof following the pair concerned. The most likely reason he recognized something about the girl was that she was on his list of TWEP targets, but if that was the case, why the hell didn't he recognize her?

Abruptly, though that train of thought was forced from his mind. Vampires, more than a dozen of them, eight ugly little things he didn't recognize, and a trio of Polgara demons stepped out of doors and alleyways to surround the two young women and Xander cursed softly but inventively for forgetting just how bad Sunnyhell's nightlife could be.

"Oh, look, the Slayer's little sister out with just one bodyguard," The apparent leader taunted, "I wonder how she'd react to your heads in a gift basket on her doorstep?"

Which neatly answered the question of whether or not Dawn's older, leather-clad friend was leading her into a trap. That question answered, Xander took action immediately. Cerberus cleared leather even before the simple fire spell went off. The gout of flame removed a stretch of vampires along the girl's flank, at least giving them a wall to put their backs to, while Cerberus barked out, driving a pair of rounds through the first two Polgara's heads and leaving them more or less decapitated. Another fire spell from the small green material stored in the bracer around his claw burned a quartet of vamps and one of the ugly unknowns to ash even as he tapped the lightning material in Cerberus's grip to throw a powerful bolt at the final Polgara. He dimly heard Dawn yell, "Xander!?" as he turned and put bullets in another trio of 'fugly uckers' as he decided to call them before abruptly finding the sidewalk empty of undead and sundry others.

"Heya, Dawnie, lookin' good." He said, red eyes carefully taking in the pair of brunettes from closer range, ready to bolt at the first sigh of extreme violence.

Dawn was white as a ghost. "She told me you died," she said tears falling down her cheeks. Xander's eyes went wide. "She told everyone that you were dead!" Dawn yelled out and ran the three steps necessary to wrap her arms around, sobbing.

"So, you're the infamous Xander the Squirt there's always talkin' about," the other brunette said leaning back against the wall. "I'd offer to shake your hand, but I think yours is full at the moment. Name's Faith."

The light went on in Xander's head. "You look different than your prison photo," he said calmly, and the second Slayer's eyes widened.

"How do you-?" she started to ask when Dawn decided she was sick of being ignored, reached up, and dragged Xander down for a kiss.

It wasn't the sort of kiss he'd expected from Dawn, but then, the last time he'd seen her he'd thought her crush was cute and more or less harmless. Something she'd grow out of.

The tongue in his mouth argued against that impression.

Faith cackled. "Oh, I can not _wait _to annoy B about this!"

XXXXX

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, done! Yay me! And another new pairing X/D FTW.

For those of you who don't play video games, this time Xander went as Vincent Valentine from Final Fantasy 7(with additional information from Dirge of Cerberus)

Oh, and TWEP: Terminate With Extreme Prejudice


	16. The Night Lord

The Fourteenth. I've made it almost halfway through the month, yay!

As usual, if its recognizable I don't own it.

XXXXX

The Night Lord

Xander let a deep breath escape his lungs as his eyes slid back to his companion. "Ready for this?" he asked, concerned.

"Like I'd let you do it alone no matter what you said," the redhead scoffed as they stood at the door of the fraternity house concealing the Initiative's base. Her carefully selected wardrobe protecting her from the midday sun, Willow glared at Xander, still annoyed by her silver-haired friend's attempt to leave her behind. "Come on then, Tovarich. I'll handle the small fry. You take Adam."

Xander nodded in agreement, drew his revolver and newer pistol, and settled himself. Then jumped as Willow blurred _through _the door instead of bothering to open it. There were a half-dozen soldiers disguised as graduate students in the room. By the time he managed to follow his best friend through what remained of the door, she was in the process of removing the last one from consciousness. "Was that precisely necessary?" he lamented with an annoyed glare.

Willow grinned at him, "No, but they deserved it. C'mon, the elevator's behind a mirror back this hall." For a moment, Xander could only wonder where his once shy and retiring Willow had gone. "Hurry it up, Tovarich!" she yelled as she headed back the hall, and Xander sighed. "I heard that!"

"You know, I'm not sure this homicidal streak of yours is entirely healthy," he said as he followed her, carefully stepping over the prone form of another soldier. "We really ought to talk abo-" he saw her glare. "Or, you know, not."

An elbow broke the glass, revealing an elevator shaft sinking into the depths of the earth beneath the campus. The elevator, apparently reacting to the attack had drawn itself up above them. Willow didn't care, she, after all, didn't need it. She scooped Xander up into her arms and jumped heedless of her partner's "Eep!" of distress. Four stories was such an _easy _fall.

She barely gave Xander the time to settle himself before drawing the Spear of Gae Bolg from the special holster on her back. The high-density ionized Xenon blade snapped to life moments later just in time to be slashed through the wall in a quick rectangle. A kick blasted the wall apart and again Willow disappeared. If the yells of consternation and screams of fear were any indication, she'd managed to catch their welcoming committee entirely by surprise. "You do realize," he mentioned casually as he stepped out of the shaft and once again looked at the unconscious forms surrounding him, "that Buffy is going to be disappointed that she missed this."

Willow snorted at him from her position peering around a corner up ahead before turning back to answer, "If she wanted in on this, she should have been suited up and ready to go instead of making goo-goo eyes at her boyfriend. C'mon, I can see the door from her lets get this over with."

"No," the words, the tone they were delivered in. it was as if someone had flipped a switch in Xander's psyche and they stopped Willow cold. "You know what Adam was able to do to Buffy, even with her armor. From here I go on alone," he said firmly and with absolute seriousness. "Just keep them off my back," Willow nodded her understanding and moved to take up a guard position watching the doors leading into the room they stood in.

Xander took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Nanomachine, Crusnik zero-two power output forty percent, activate," the change was swift. Nanites drew themselves and the blood in which they were suspended into his eyes, flooding irises red as they enhanced eyesight and gave him an overlaid heads up display. Static electricity played over his skin, lifting shaggy hair until it stood upright of its own accord. A twist of will and blood and nanites burst from his wrist, a powerful electric field shaping them into a scythe. His lips turned blue as blood was conserved for his vital organs, his nanomachines and the absorbed Bacillus alone preserving his extremities.

He casually reached out and tore the heavily reinforced door off of the wall. "I'll be back shortly, Methuselah," he said, using Willow's code name to keep any recording devices not disabled by his EMP ignorant of her true identity.

She smiled. "Go with God, Crusnik," she said and settled in to wait.

XXXXX

Another short one, but I've tried three endings for this and didn't like any of them, so this is it. For those who don't recognize the characters, Xander and Willow went as Abel Nightlord and Astaroche Asran from Trinity Blood, respectively. A cookie for anyone who can guess who Buffy went as(the clue is there).


	17. Chaos Effect

The first of my pre-done ficlettes. There was just no way I was getting one written today.

So, Xander's birthday is apparently never mentioned in canon. I have arbitrarily selected one.

Standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Chaos Effect

It was nearing 10:00 P.M. on May fifteenth again, and by long established custom, the formerly male, formerly human person formerly named Xander was very _very _drunk. For most people, this would not be an issue; someone would pour them into bed and all would be well, for values of well, by the time they woke up with a massive hangover.

There are different rules for persons who have been know to turn off gravity and throw rampaging hellgods through walls. Everyone who'd lived at Cleveland for more than a year knew the procedure for handling 'Xandra' as she preferred to be called. It was handling the newbies that was tricky; they didn't have enough experience with the weirdness that was Slayer Central to know to avoid the drunken singing.

Willow could take or leave country music usually. Sung at the volumes, Xandra preferred and with her drunken lack of quality control, it was something approaching actively painful. On the other hand, when she was singing happily, she wasn't playing games with physics. A twenty-something Watcher visiting headquarters for a week stuck her head out of one of the hallway's offices and stared. Tara, running interference, shoved her back inside rather more abruptly than was her wont.

_Then again, _Willow considered, _she's usually not trying to avoid two or thee hundred thousand dollars worth of damage to the School either._

Which is precisely what they'd had to deal with two years ago when one of the newbies, a girl named Kennedy opened her mouth and promptly had Xandra's fist shoved down her throat. Pissing Xandra off was a bad idea. Pissing Xandra off when she had zero impulse control was suicidal. The poor girl spent two months in traction despite her mystically enhanced physiology.

Willow's burden, either having reached the end of the song or forgotten the words turned to look at Willow, and, with as much seriousness as a drunk Asari could manage, stated, "Y'know, you're really pretty."

Willow blushed, she couldn't help it. Even Tara ten yards further up the hall heard and snickered.

"No," Xandra said with continued sincerity, "I mean it. Y' look a lot like Willow, and Willow's really pretty." Willow's eyes shot wide and Tara turned to stare. Xandra had hit on her before when she was like this, but she'd never said anything like _that _before.

Willow would have tried to ignore her intoxicated friend out of embarrassment. Tara, however had finally managed to get totally over her stuttering shyness and apparently wanted to see her girlfriend squirm.

"Oh," she said, grinning wickedly, "are you dating Willow then?"

Xandra looked around for the person who'd asked, without much luck. She was simply too out of it to focus her eyes right. "Nonono," she said with lots of hand-waving that almost made Willow drop her, "she's datin' this _really_ hot blond girl named Tara," she pulled herself up high enough to 'whisper' at normal speaking volume in Willow's ear, "She's stacked too, an' I don' wanna break 'em up."

This time it was Tara's turn to blush brilliant red. Willow just smiled.

_This probably makes me a bad friend, but I'm just having too much fun to stop._

"I want to hear more about this Tara . . ."

XXXXX

Xandra woke up with a headache that felt like being hit by a Krogan. "Urgh. How much did I drink?" she asked quietly enough to avoid needlessly aggravating her head.

"Enough," Willow said with mock irritation.

Xandra opened her eyes and looked at her. Willow met her eyes, trying to look stern, but then looked away quickly, blushing. Xandra had been down this street before. "Okay, what'd I say this time?"

"What _didn't _you say would be more the question," Tara said from the doorway where she'd apparently been waiting to pounce. Xandra groaned. "Should I share specifics?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask," Xandra admitted as she sat up and grabbed the bottled water out of Willow's hand, wishing that Tylenol worked on Asari physiology.

"Oh, nothing bad," Tara said with a grin. "First you hit on Willow, who you didn't recognize," at that statement Xandra let out a deep breath.

_Good, the last thing I need is to strain their relationship at all._

His relief vanished with Tara's next sentence. "Then you proceeded to tell the strange woman helping you walk how pretty Willow and her stacked blond girlfriend were. In great detail."

Xandra stared at Tara long enough to be sure she wasn't joking before groaning and putting her head between her knees. _Why does the earth never open up and swallow you when you want it to?_ "Willow, be a true friend and kill me now," she said, expecting irritated females to start in on her at any second.

Instead, Willow grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her up. "Hey, now! No puking in my room. If you have to do any of that, at least go down the hall to visit Buffy beforehand!"

Xandra stared. It was just too early, and she was too embarrassed and hung over for jokes. Then Tara came over and sat down on her lap, and patted her head.

"Oh, that wasn't an 'I'm sick' face, that was an 'I'm terminally embarrassed' face. You know, like the face you make when . . ." she trailed off suggestively. If Xandra had still been male, Tara would have had absolute proof of the effect she was having on the original Scooby. As it was Xandra simply groaned and let herself fall backwards on the bed.

"I'm going to be dealing with this for months aren't I?"

"Yep!" an entirely too perky and amused Tara replied.

XXXXX

This is another odd one. Xander dressed as an Asari from the game Mass Effect. For those of you who _will _bitch about Tara being OOC, imagine for a moment that Xander, too screwed up be becoming not only a female, but a female _alien_. Doesn't have much desire to be the funny guy anymore. Someone needs to fill that slot. In my mind, Tara, once she gets over her horrible self-esteem issues could very well have opened up like this among people she knew well, influenced by Faith, etc.

Besides, I think its cute . .


	18. A Forceful Objection

Another day, another Ficlette. Oh, and officially past the halfway mark, yay!

Another pre-done fic. Still not done with my paper.

As usual, standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

A Forceful Objection

Faith took a moment away from battling vampires to stare at the transformed Mayor.

_How the _hell _are we supposed to fight _that_!?_

B's plan had been something less than entirely precise on that point. She'd mentioned outside help while glaring at Giles, but unless they had the Marines on speed dial . . .

Faith cursed as she blocked a punch that would probably have broken her nose. Thinking was fine. Thinking and _moving _was better. A second block flowed naturally into a counter that broke the vamp's nose. When it flinched, instinctively raising its hands to its face, Faith struck. Dust rained down as she moved on to another target. It wasn't really paying attention to the fight, too interested in whatever was going on behind her and a quick thrust dispatched it as well.

_Heh, 'dispatched' Giles'd be proud._

Faith turned to look for another opponent only to come up empty. She checked for just a second to make sure the grads Willow and her squeeze, Oz had talked to were actually doing what they were supposed to do. She nodded in relief when she saw that stunned parents were getting escorted away.

_Now for the fun part._

She turned back to the snake formerly known as the Mayor just in time to see him break through a wall chasing B. oh, and to see a freaky lookin' dude wielding what appeared to be lightsabers jump off the roof and cut into his spine.

_Wait. Stop, rewind._

Nope freaky horned dude was still there. Though she _really _wanted to know where the swords came from; anyone that could make lightsabers was okay in her-

_Not swords._

The grip was actually on the side of the weapon.

_What's that called? A tonfa?_

Whatever they were, the blades cut through the mayor's armor like it was so much butter.

_I _want _one of those!_

She watched the mayor spasm, all control seemingly ending less than three feet behind his massive skull and marveled at the surgical strike. That sort of skill was hard to come by. Seemed like B had something better than the Marines on speed dial.

Now all she had to do was track the demon down and convince him to tell her where she could get one or two of those magic swords.

XXXXX

Xander waited just around the corner from the woman he was allowing to track him. Most people would have taken one look at her and been so captivated by her beauty that they would have stopped looking for anything else.

Most people didn't have his advantages. The Force flowed through everything, but more smoothly around some things than others. The emotional wounds this Sla-

_No, she has other people worrying about The Slayer. Remember that she's still a girl, and a younger one than she appears._

For a normal human, such wounds were a danger. There was a reason the phrase, 'going postal' did not refer to starting a new job. For a Slayer like Buffy those sort of wounds were perilous. She already had so much pressure on her that any snap would be less like a breaking branch and more like a collapsing tree. For this Faith . . .

_And I am not _ready_!_

For a young woman who already possessed the might of a Slayer, who already bore such deep and abiding hurts. To have the ability to tap into the Force as well with its pitfalls and snares. . .

_I know what the Masters would say._

And yet.

Faith rounded the corner and stopped eyes flashing wide as she nearly ran into him. Xander concealed a smile. "Is there a particular reason you're following me, or were you simply overcome by my rakish good looks?" he put all his rusty skill as a jester and his more practiced camouflage techniques into the question, his expression firmly controlled, and hoped, knowing he would get his best read off of her right here, right now. She was surprised, unsure, and already off balance by being caught. How would she react? For just a second, a blush tried to climb up her face. Literally something more sensed than seen.

Even though moments later she recovered and turned up the charm, coldly calculating once again, Xander had seen what he needed. What the Living Force had led him back to this cursed town for in the first place.

_I do not believe I am ready to take up this responsibility, _he thought, collecting his fears and releasing them once again. _But ready or not, I am needed._

"You wish to learn the making of these weapons?" he asked, allowing her to see the handle of one of his Tonfas before he twirled it and tucked it back into his robe. Not giving her time to answer, he continued, "How fortunate. I find myself looking for an apprentice. I will teach, if you are truly willing to learn."

As Faith stared, openmouthed at him Xander very carefully reached out and lifted a half dozen objects from about the alley into a careful orbit around them. "And I don't just mean the forging of swords."

XXXXX

Xander went as a Zabrak Jedi on Halloween. Think Darth Maul, but with less evil.

And that's it! I'm goin' back to bed.


	19. A Shadow in the Dark

Finally got this one finished, and I hope y'all like it. It was a pain in the ass.

Standard disclaimer, blah, blah, blah.

XXXXX

A Shadow in the Dark

Xander prowled through the streets of Sunnydale unnoticed by the town's few remaining inhabitants. Of course, if the reports were correct and bringers, ubervamps, and a certain insane preacher with rather more strength than rationality were active in the town, the ability to move unseen was a survival trait.

_Speak of the devil, _Xander considered as something caught his notice.

The group of Bringers wasn't making a great deal of effort to be subtle. Of course, the fact that they were acting as bait might have had something to do with it. Not that Buffy and her little group of followers appeared to have noticed.

_Sometimes I wonder why I bother. _

Silently he dropped down from the tree in which he had briefly taken refuge and approached one of the flanking groups. He struck just as Buffy and her cadre of mini-mes were moving into perfect position to get caught in the Bringer's trap. Before the half-dozen Turok-han and their Bringer controllers could move, Xander's Warp Blade flickered to life and struck off an ubervamp's head. The sound of the ancient vampire collapsing into dust drew the attention of the others and they turned to look at the empty space where their comrade had stood.

'_Pitiful,' _the word echoed through minds of Bringers and vamps alike and clearly startled them, _'here I was hoping for a challenge.'_

Even as he 'spoke' Xander finished circling the group and thrust his blade into a Bringer's back. Before it could hit the ground, the vamp beside it lost a head and the one beside _it _exploded into pieces that then exploded into dust as Xander lashed out at it psyonically. Forget death, surprise is the great equalizer. A physically weaker combatant acting with the benefit of surprise can defeat vastly more powerful opponents. When it's the stronger party acting with the aide of surprise . . .

Xander struck down the last of the Turok-han just as Buffy launched her attack. It was immediately obvious that the Bringers had known they were being followed by the speed with which they reacted to the 'surprise' attack. At least two potential went down in the first few seconds as enemies they thought they had the jump on reacted flawlessly, entirely unruffled. Another thing about surprise: it's a double edged sword.

As he watched, the other ambush squad broke cover and charged. The lead Bringer, sword raised, prepared to impale a girl that looked like she was from central or south America.

Xander grimaced, he was too damn far away. He hated to give himself away, but on the other hand, he hated seeing little girls hurt by their leader's incompetence.

'_Duck,' _he thought at the girl so loudly it had to have wrung in her head like a compulsion. Without another of his kind to form an Archon, Xander's powers were limited. Specifically, he was unable to entirely dominate another's will. However, assisting someone to do what they already wished to do, that was within his powers.

Even as he was moving towards the free for all the battle was becoming, he reached out to guide the girl's motions. She lacked strength. She lacked speed. She lacked agility. Without those, it was technique. The style he used through the potential Slayer Caridad was similar, at its core, to aikido in that it allowed a practitioner to redirect the force of an opponent's blows. To take a foe's strength and turn it into one's own.

With unnatural grace, the girl's feet slid into a stance no human had ever heard of. When the Bringer struck she flowed away from the slash adding just enough momentum to throw the creature off balance. A knife hand to the throat crushed its larynx and it collapsed to its knees, dead even if its body hadn't quite given up yet.

Two more Bringers and a Turok-han were approaching the girl and Xander was almost there when he felt his hold within her mind start to slip. _You're _doing _something to me! What are you? _And a dozen other thoughts bombarded him and he winced. The three creatures approaching the girl were enough that even with his help she might not survive until he physically arrived. If she fought him . . .

'_I am trying to keep you alive until I can aide you physically. Please, allow me to help you.' _He could sense her reluctance and her fear, but she stopped fighting him. Less forcefully than he had sent before, he gave her a sense of _/stance/_ and _/distance-to-target/ _and _/strike thusly./ _

This group of enemies was more careful than the first had been. Their unexpectedly deadly target worried them and Xander knew the girl was catching the fringes of his amusement at their alarm. Predictably, the Turok-han moved first. They were both ready for it just as they both knew that Caridad had no weapons that could kill it.

Xander increased the power of the link as much as he could, knowing that he would be unable to provide enough specific information fast and coherently enough to permit her to survive. Better to give her a deeper understanding of what a technique was intended for, how a blow would feel as the shock of a foot striking the target spread up the leg. Perhaps it would be enough.

The ubervamp lead with a clumsy punch that Caridad read and ducked under; some footwork Xander's other memories had gleaned from the Zer'atai tribe allowed her to slip to the side of a second punch, but she had no time to capilalize on her advantage in position. The first of the bringers was closing in. She slid to the side of a strike by the Harbinger's short sword and an almost leisurely looking tap to the elbow of its weapon arm pushed it off balance and to the side, but again the second Bringer and the Turok-han prevented her from finishing off the vulnerable enemy. Again it was the vampire that struck first. A sort of feral intelligence kept it from being as easily outmaneuvered this time as it kept strikes more controlled. Caridad slapped the first blow aside with both hands and avoided the second entirely. The third, however, was simply too much. She was simply not fast enough to get away and the punch clipped her shoulder. The transferred force wasn't enough to knock her down, but it did cause her to stumble. The second Bringer which had thus far stayed out of the fight reached out a leg and swept both of hers out from under her.

Xander could feel her fear, her knowledge that nothing she knew could save her. The Turok-han was striding forward. His fist was raised preparing to streak toward her face with enough force to crush her skull. The bringer was stepping forward, sword raised to thrust down into her chest. Xander could only stop one at a time with his Warp Blade.

He did the only thing he could. He reached out with all the energy he could and-

Something happened that he was unprepared for. He had sought only to place his own muscle memory at her service, to allow her to roll with the fall and get away. Instead. . .

XXXXX

Even as our light bending failed, Xander-I hit the Bringer's wrist with our right hand, lifting the arm up and in and permitting our Warp Blade to stab into the Bringer's chest in just under its arm. The psionic weapon sheared through bone and lung tissue like paper before splitting the aorta. One down.

Caridad-I impacted the ground and pushed off with force precisely calculated by dint of long experience. The Turok-han's fist hit the ground where our head would have been had we not reacted as quickly as we had. But our opponent was off balance, expecting his opponent to be dead beneath his fist. For a moment, we wished for our spare Zer'atai Warp Scythe. We banished the desire ruthlessly; we had what we had. It would be enough.

The simple wooden stake in Caridad-I's fist pushed through the ubervamp's left eye and into its brain and it reared back in pain just in time to meet our sweeping Warp Blade. It exploded in dust and we both turned to the last Bringer which was looking at us in shock.

It lasted no longer than either of the others had, and-

With the press of combat ended, the bond I had shared with Caridad disintegrated. She turned to stare at my veiled features as the violet energy of my Warp Blade winked out. I expected . . . I do not truly know what I expected.

Her eyes were a bit wild. If she had seen as deeply into me as I had seen into her, it was no wonder. What I had done should not have been possible. Without my neural tendrils it should have been impossible for me to link so closely with another being. Only in forming an Archon did a Dark Templar draw so close to another mind.

Caridad opened her mouth. What she would have said, I do not know and perhaps will not.

"Bastard!" Buffy yelled and a sword swung through the space my skull had occupied a moment before. In midair, I drew my power and bent the light around me, slipping back into my own mobile shadow. "Come back here so I can kill you!"

'_It is good to see you well too, Buffy,' _I broadcast to the whole group. _'In case you_ _want to examine them, there are five corpses and six dust piles in the trees to your west.'_

I walked quickly and quietly to the edge of the park before looking back. Caridad was looking right at me. I was not, quite, surprised by what I heard. The sending was very weak but still discernable, _'Thank you.'_

'_They were my enemy as well. No thanks are needed,'_

'_I understand,' _she thought back. Perhaps she did.

XXXXX

Frickin' hell. Between this and the paper I just finished I've written something like 20 pages in the last three days. By this time I'm just glad to be done, so I'm not going over this to proofread. I hope there aren't too many mistakes, but no promises.

Also, I am not an expert on Dark Templar; I've never read the books so if I got a couple details wrong PM me. I think this one will be making a reappearance somewhere along the line. Even if it _was_ a pain I had too much fun writing it to just leave it as is.

And that's it! I'm goin' back to bed.


	20. A Good Day

Standard Disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

A Good Day

Xander scowled at the mirror and cursed softly and inventively at what he saw there. No way was he going to be passing as normal looking like this. Hopefully Giles would know enough about the series to recognize him without trying to put holes in him.

Making his way through the still night-dark streets of Sunnydale was an . . . educating experience. Twice, groups of vampires approached just close enough to see his altered features before backing off again when they recognized a fellow predator, and the one time a human wandered by, his eyes slid slightly out of focus and seemed to pass over him without seeing him at all.

_Freaky. I wonder if I was like that before I met Buffy._

That thought carried him in through the library's rear entrance. Given the hour, he wasn't surprised that the room was still empty, but even if it was a Saturday, Giles was sure to make an appearance at some point during the day.

Normally Xander would have been quite content to sit and wait or maybe flip through one of the non-research related books. Today, however, he found he couldn't sit still, just as he'd found that he simply _couldn't _lie in bed long enough to go back to sleep. Sighing he stood up and drew the blade he'd inherited from his possessed self the night before.

_Kata it is._

Xander drew the weapon and let himself flow through the motions of the centuries old warm-up routine and then into a more complicated combat routine. He lost himself in the motions that were familiar and not all at the same time. What finally brought him out of it was the gasp from the door.

He sighed and sheathed the mek'leth before turning to look at Giles. "Hey, G-man I'm afraid I've got a bit of a problem."

XXXXX

Xander twisted sideways and buried the crescent-like blade of his mek'leth in a demon's skull a twist of the blade broke it free and the phaser in his off hand blasted a second just to the left of its spine and fried what served it as a liver. It too collapsed to the ground, thrashing. Xander yelled out a battle cry as Buffy engaged Glory with the Troll hammer. Doing his best to keep an eye on the blond Slayer, he engaged another of Glory's seemingly endless minions and cut it down before moving in on Giles' flank to provide support to the older man.

"This is not working as well as I had hoped," Xander said mildly as he killed another minion with his mek'leth before turning to burn down one that was trying to sneak up on Willow and Tara.

"All we have to do is buy time," Giles insisted, sucking for air. He was still in good condition for a man creeping closer and closer to true old age. But he was not as young as he once was and he did not have the advantages Xander possessed. "If Spike can just get-"

Giles cut off abruptly at the sound of impact. "Damn," the former librarian said as he looked at the fallen vampire. Xander was even more vocal in his irritation. He turned to his mentor and the look in his eyes conveyed his intent. "Go," Giles said, "we can handle this for a time."

Xander took off for the top of the tower like a bat out of hell. He arrived just in time to see someone he _thought _was dead slicing into Dawn's stomach. "I could have sworn I killed you," he told Doc as he sheathed his mek'leth in favor of his bat'leth. Doc opened his mouth to say something, but Xander never gave him the chance. Switching from his one handed blade to the two handed weapon had been nothing but a distraction. His phaser fired from the hip and burned through the reptilian demon's left eye. When the bat'leth, now gripped in both hands struck the demon's head from its neck, it was most likely already dead. Given that it had been _impaled _a few hours before, Xander wasn't inclined to take chances.

He had just moved over to Dawn to try and stop the bleeding when Buffy made it to the top of the tower. They were both too late. The portal woke and Xander cursed in Klingon for several seconds before noticing the look on Buffy's face.

"Dawn, listen to me. Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I'm okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me," she said, looking at her sister. Obviously, at least to someone who knew her as well as Xander did, saying goodbye.

"No," Xander said and Buffy started, apparently having forgotten he was there. "Joyce is gone, Buffy. Your sister needs you." He reached down and coated his bat'leth's blade in Dawn's blood. "Besides, Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam," Buffy seemed to wilt as she realized what he was going to do, but she also knew he was right. Dawn did need her.

With a smile on his face, Xander jumped. The portal closed.

When Giles made it over to the body he found the young man who'd been such a great factor in the lives of all of his informally adopted children still gripping his weapon. Still smiling.

XXXXX

Also not an easy one to write. Still, hope you liked it. Also, this is the last of the ideas I've got at this point. Unless I get some more I can work with I'll be starting in on sequels for tomorrow.

Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam: Klingon phrase meaning, 'Today is a good day to die.'


	21. Crimson Rain II

Day nineteen. Let the sequels begin!

Standard disclaimer etc

XXXXX

Crimson Rain II

Xander stared at Buffy.

_Impossible._

He _remembered _Dawn. He had five _years _of Dawn-memories. But the look in her eyes, her heartbeat . . .

_She's not lying._

So Xander stared, brain more or less broken. It was a good thing she wasn't trying to kill him at the moment.

_Dawn's not real?_

He banished that thought immediately. Reality was, by and large, what one made of it. After all, a redheaded, Japanese, part-demon swordsman that had never existed lived in his head and lurked in his mirror. Reality was subjective.

So little girls that had once been glowing green balls of energy were not only possible, from a certain point of view they were _likely_.

_I wonder how many of them there are floating around the world._

He swallowed the giggle before it could pass his lips. Hysteria was not going to help. "You're sure?" the question was less question than statement.

"Would I be talking to you for _any _other reason?" that was also rather less question than statement. Given their long history of mutual annoy-age he'd forgive the Slayer her irritation.

"Sou ka?" well, mostly forgive. Though given the glare she was sending his way, maybe he'd better avoid Japanese around her for a while yet. Say, till she was old and grey and he could be reasonably sure she wouldn't hunt him down and kill him in his sleep.

He banished whimsy to the same corner as panic. "Do you have a plan?"

The short answer was "Yes" the long answer . . .

_I should have asked her if she had a plan with a snowflake's chance in southern California of succeeding. _

The 'plan' came down to 'Buffy take troll-god hammer. Buffy smash Hellgod!' Xander began to wonder if there might be a way to delicately suggest that his once-friend was being an idiot.

The fact that it was extremely unlikely she could catch him and beat him to death meant squat if she had Willow level his apartment complex.

Memory surged at him, drubbing him over the head with, '_They made Dawn from me and-'_

Xander shook it off wishing he was more the rurouni and less the hitokiri. He could use some more zen tranquility at the moment.

He sighed. _No help for it._

Bunjee Jumping is easy; first, step off the bridge. "That might not be the best possible allocation of resources," she was glaring at him. He could deal with that. The part of her that was the Slayer was very good at tactics. Not _excellent_, but very good. Thus, she tended to rush forward in her planning to getting down to blows with the enemy where she could use that tactical ability.

By contrast, a hitokiri _planned_. Everything available about the target was _know_. How many guards? What is the building layout? What can go wrong? No matter how much temper and instinct pushed him to _act_, he would wait, and think.

"You are correct, in that you acknowledge that Willow's attack is unlikely to be game-winning in and of itself. You are also correct in that Glory cannot be fought by something as weak as a vampire. Your plan to distract her with the Buffy-bot is likewise a good one," he acknowledged. "However, would it not be more logical to allow one who is faster than you to engage an enemy equally fast?"

Buffy's eyes widened slightly before narrowing suspiciously. "If you think I'm giving you the hammer-"

Xander cut her off. "I do not know that I could even lift it, and I have no desire to try."

"They how are you . . .?" Buffy trailed off in puzzlement.

"You are forgetting, Buffy. We need not win this battle. We simply need to not _lose_ it."

The light went on. "If both Spike and I can get to Dawn . . ."

For the first time in years, Buffy smiled at him without the edge of maliciousness he had come to expect from her.

_Maybe there's a chance for us to make something of this after all._

He shook the thought out of his head, forcing himself to look for any holes in the plan.

_I have a _daughter_. This must go right, for her sake._

XXXXX

So the monks made Dawn out of Buffy . . . alright, since she's obviously not a clone where'd the other half come from? This episode of plot-hole-filling brought to you by my insane muse!

'Sou ka?': 'Is that so?'

Rurouni: a made up word. Literally. It doesn't exist in Japanese. Given the meaning: wanderer apparently as an extension of Ronin.

Hitokiri: Manslayer, in the context of the anime, an assassin.

And that's it! I'm goin' back to bed.


	22. Degrees of Separation II

The second sequel chapter is out. Actually I may be visiting this one yet again, I'm simply having too much fun writing in this 'verse.

Standard disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Degrees of Separation II

Everything was finally ready. He'd sworn Buffy to secrecy after the whole 'Dracula' fiasco, made her promise not to tell anyone about the presence of Castlevania until he was ready to reveal it himself. Now was the time. It was only appropriate, after all, that he unveil his new home on the anniversary of the day he'd inherited it. The invitations had gone out the week before and all the guests had RSVPed. He'd even gone to the trouble of rearranging the castle's interior for the night, linking the great Ballroom almost directly to the front doors.

The first one to enter was Buffy, grinning ear to ear at being in on the surprise dressed as, if he wasn't mistaken, Sonya Belmont. Next was Dawn wide-eyed and grinning at least as wide as her sister in a replica of an 1800s formal gown. Next was Giles with Joyce on his arm, both dressed in turn of the century British nobility costumes and both looking gob smacked at the building they'd just been lead into. Which reminded him. A subtle gesture at one of the returned servants caused the skeletal herald to tap its staff on the marble floor and announce, "The Lady Buffy Summers, her younger sister, the Lady Dawn, and their mother, the Lady Joyce, escorted by Sir Rupert Giles."

Everyone but Buffy turned to stare at what they'd thought was a decoration. Xander stood from his place at the far end of the room and teleported over to them. When he arrived he heard soft gasps from both Buffy and Dawn and Mrs. Summers and Mr. Giles eyes widened. He could understand why. Even after that Halloween, he'd continued to dress in mostly his own clothes, to see him wearing things Adrian would have worn . . .

"Wow, Xander, when you throw a party, you really throw a party," Dawn said, smile trying to stretch to her ears.

"One tries, Dawn patrol," but there were others on their way and it was his job to be a good host. "Come on in and we can all watch Tara and Willow gape,"

It didn't quite work out that way. The herald made it as far as, "The Lady Wi-" before Tara passed out.

XXXXX

Xander remembered that Halloween with a smile. Once they'd gotten Tara to wake up, it had been the most fun any of them had had in a long time. Of course, Buffy had spent at least a little time eyeing the ghostly servants and the skeletal waiters, but that was only to be expected. Xander knocked on the Summers' door and then entered without waiting for a response as was his custom.

"Hey, Xander," Joyce called out from the kitchen. "I'm afraid Buffy isn't in at the moment," for a few seconds he wondered what had come up. It wasn't like Buffy to miss a date without calling him.

_On second thought, _Xander pulled out his cell phone. _Dead. Oops._

Joyce saw his look and what he was holding and smiled at her daughter's silver-haired boyfriend. "Forget to charge it again?" she asked then winced and rubbed at her head.

"Yeah, hopefully she won't take my head off, but it's not like I can just invite the phone company up to my magical castle and have them put a line in. Even if they could, what would happen the first time the castle decided to rearrange itself?" he asked and Joyce laughed softly before once again wincing and rubbing at her head. Xander immediately became concerned. "Hey, Mrs. S, I thought that surgery was supposed to have gotten rid of the headaches?"

Joyce let him escort her to the couch and get her situated. "They did go away. This is the first one I've had since-" she cut off suddenly and Xander started. Her pulse was racing.

_What the?_

Something he'd read recently was trying to surface in his mind. Where had-

He cut his own thought off. It had been in the list of possible complications from Joyce's surgery. He'd researched all of them to help explain to Dawn what the risks were for her mother's operation. One of those risks had been Aneurysm. One of the symptoms of a burst aneurysm was rapid heart rate. Another was lightheadedness.

For just a second, Xander panicked. He could see in Joyce's eyes that she _knew _there was something wrong. Something in his expression had given him away.

"Xander, wha-" she swayed on the couch and her left eye abruptly dialated.

_No time, there's no time!_

"Joyce, you remember the section of that paperwork you had to sign about side effects of surgical treatment," he took her half-coherent nod as agreement, "I think you're having a side effect. A lethal one," that got what little concentration she had left focused on him.

They'd discussed a second type of treatment for her cancer at the time, but ultimately gone with mortal medicine. Now, there was no time for mortal medicine to work.

She looked at him and nodded. Xander let out the breath he'd been holding. On the one hand he wasn't going to have to sit helplessly and watch his girlfriend's mother die. On the other, he was technically going to be killing her himself.

Fangs pierced skin already losing color while will sharpened a fingernail to a razor's edge.

_Please, God, don't let me fuck this up._

XXXXX

And that's another chapter done!

Anyone hate me yet?


	23. The House of the Valorous II

Standard disclaimer, etc.

XXXXX

The House of the Valorous II

Dawn kicked her boots off and sat down on the edge of her bed. Not that she _looked _like Dawn Summers at the moment. Not even the idiots in Sunnydale would believe Dawn Summers was old enough to be looking after herself, and L.A. was rather different than Sunny-D. She shook her head and looked at the covers longingly, then sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Drawing just slightly on her metalcrafting, she banished fatigue and moved over to her desk and the stack of paperwork waiting for her there.

_Let's see, itemized list of expenses for the Berardenelli case, complete with receipts. That can go out in the morning. . . Bill from the magic shop, last payment on the research books . . ._

And this was the _short_ stack of stuff. Xander, despite his difficulties with things like, say, writing still managed to somehow get three quarters of it done. Most of what she had to deal with was just things that needed her signature.

_Good subordinates are a treasure beyond price._

Not a thought Dawn would have had before Halloween, but then, before Halloween, she hadn't had forty odd years of, well, _life _shoved into her head. Forty years of love and loss and determination and sacrifice and, and, and.

_Probably also how I managed to pass the exam for my P.I. license. Between that and the amulet at least._

Even if she had more than half a century of experience in her head, not many people would have taken a pubescent girl or an eight foot tall wolf-man seriously. So she'd commissioned a pair of amulets from a _very _expensive professional as soon as she'd made the decision to come to Los Angeles. She had virtually wiped out their accumulated (writ: looted) cash to make the sixty-five percent down payment on the work the enchanter required, but being able to function like a pair of adults was well worth it.

A last signature on a check and she was done.

_Paperwork defeated, patrol finished . . ._

Her bed was calling her name.

Which is, inevitably when Xander still in his human disguise burst into the room. "Dawn, we have a situation developing,"

XXXXX

Xander was too preoccupied with thoughts of impending doom to really focus on what Dawn was saying for the first few moments after he rushed into the room. Her suggestion about precisely what Murphy could do with a tire iron (lube optional) refocused his attention wonderfully. He was _good_. Araris Valerian on the other hand, was the _best_, period, dot.

Once he determined that she wasn't about to lunge for him, blade drawn he relaxed. A little.

"Are you going to elaborate? Or are you trying to kill me with the suspense?" she asked acerbically as she started putting boots back on.

"Got a call from Giles. Assuming it's not a trap, it's a good thing you gave them that phone number," he said before elaborating, "Preliminary identification is a human/demon Ascension ritual."

And he could see Dawn's irritation vanish instantly beneath a swordsman's calm. "You mean a True Demon?" she asked, Araris's experience keeping the fear out of her voice, letting her work through the chain of cause, effect, and consequence he'd already had time to work through.

She looked up at him after a few moments. "We have to be there," he nodded in agreement. "I don't suppose Giles told us anything about suspected resistances of vulnerabilities?"

"All he said was that the last time this happened, it took an erupting volcano to take the results down for good." Both of them paused at that, remembering another volcano and the utter ruin of Kalare.

"Damn," Dawn said almost dispassionately, then her eyes narrowed, "Wait, what if we kill the warlock before he has a chance to finish the ritual?"

Xander grimaced at forgetting that part. "Sorry, Dawn, She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named already tried that. He's enacted some sort of ritual to give him temporary immortality," he explained while Dawn muttered invective. "On the other hand, if it was easy . . ."

"They wouldn't need us," she completed their unofficial motto. "Alright, then. Sunnyhell it is."

XXXXX

Faith was chilling in the library talking about nothing of any real importance with Red when the pair walked in.

They immediately drew her attention. Not many people came randomly wandering into Sunny-D High's library. Frankly, most people took one look at the place and found an elsewhere to be. Even people who had no clue about the Weird got creeped out by the area in a major way. Given what she'd seen the one time she saw what was under the library open up, Faith was unsurprised.

These two though . . . The guy drew her attention first. _Dude's tall with a capitol 'T.' What, six ten? Seven feet?_ But it was when she switched her attention to the girl that she stopped and cursed to herself. _Ho-ho-holy shit. _Girl moved like a killer. Not like some of the gangers she'd known back in Boston, all swagger and bluff tryin' to make themselves seem like badasses. More like one of the major Yakuza hit-men she'd seen once. He'd had that same kind of attitude calm, cool, collected. And when he'd decided to _stop _being polite . . . nine to one odds hadn't even slowed him down. Now that she was looking for it . . ._Muscles moves the same way, he's just better at deflecting attention from it. _If these two were looking to get busy

_Glad I looked into the sewer entrance B mentioned._

She turned to Red, trying to come up with a subtle way to tell the girl that they might have to GTFO at a moment's notice only to recognition bloom in her eyes.

"Xander? Dawn?" she stammered, "But? How?"

The guy, Xander? sighed and handed a crisp bill over to the chick. "Damn twelve seconds. You just cost me a Benjamite, Wills I would have sworn you'd know it was me within ten," the big guy said with evidence of an actual _pout _on his lips.

Hell, even the Jeeves seemed surprised to see them. "Ah, Xander I was under the impression that your transformation was, ah, rather more permanent."

Xander snorted and slipped off a necklace and-

Her brain seized up. She found herself reflexively coming to her feet, a stake in hand. On the other hand, Red wasn't panicking and the Watcher didn't look threatened, even seemed to know the guy. Faith abruptly noticed the girl had shrunk a foot and a half and seemed to have dropped a half-dozen years or so. And she was looking at her with what Faith could only call grudging respect.

"She's definitely smarter than my sister. I like her already," the girl said just before apparently dismissing the raven-haired Slayer entirely. "Now Giles, I believe you said something about a True Demon that needed killing?"

Faith wasn't real up on computers, but she knew what Willow referred to as the Blue Screen of Death.

It was right at that moment dancing in front of her eyes. "Wait, these are the reinforcements you mentioned?"

The wolf-man and the little girl just smiled.

XXXXX

This was supposed to be up yesterday, but the god of Perversity and Murphy Who-Is-His-Prophet dropped by for a visit. Things were . . .ungood.

Hopefully the badness is done splashing on me and will only land on my idiot neighbor.

Thanks for your patience. Second chapter to follow as soon as i finish it.


	24. Also not Quite a Demon II

Second fic for the day. Once again, I apologize for not updating after the Mogolian Cluster Fuck that was yesterday. On the other hand I put the building almost burning down over typing. Hopefully people will understand. : )

Stander disclaimer applies.

XXXXX

Also not Quite a Demon II

Xander laid the girl down carefully on his bed, mindful of her all too numerous still-broken bones. She'd passed out from the pain on the flight back to his home, but despite how much it had to have hurt, she hadn't cried out and given away their position.

_All the soldiers will find is seared ground and dust. If I am fortunate they will assume they might be outnumbered and retreat._

After all, not many things could kill so many vampires without being injured, even if-

Xander realized he was stalling and cut that train of thought off with one of the Warglaives. Focusing his sight he turned back to the girl and spat an absolutely vile curse. The broken leg bone appeared not to have caused any further damage, but unless he had lost his perception completely, one of the broken ribs had pierced a lung.

For one moment he was still. Then the rage hit and he slammed a powerful fist into the stone floor. Such a wound would have likely been a challenge for even a powerful Priestess or Druid. For a Warlock such as himself with but a few half-remembered restorative spells to his credit . . .

_No. I _refuse _to let her die._

One so pure of heart should never have been allowed to come to such harm. In seeking to avoid Illidan's mistakes he was making them all over again.

_I refuse to fail her too._

He forced himself to calm. There were ways of cheating death that he could access. They would only buy him time, but even so. . .

He calmed himself as best he could and drew another of the half-remembered druidic spells to mind, hoping that he did not fail too spectacularly. It was a quick spell to cast, but slow to function and persistent. One designed for times when a healer simply could not afford to focus on a single patient. The spell was formed less with words, and more with the mind. A twist of will and a flick of clawed fingers invoked it and the blood loss into the perforated lung slowed.

It was honestly better than he'd hoped for. He once again called up the Nourishing spell he'd cast before and focused it on the leg. Bone knit together with the same startling speed as earlier and the few remaining wounds that yet bled closed over. Still there was that rib! And the blood flow had only slowed not stopped. His success with spells not particularly well known and so long unpracticed was nothing short of astonishing, but a compound fracture like that was simply beyond him.

_If I try to heal that I directly I will likely do more harm than good._

It was not an easy thing to admit. Illidan had been nothing if not proud. He renewed the slow working rejuvenation enchantment and moved off to the side and on to more familiar spellwork.

The soul shard was easy enough to acquire; he kept a small bag full of the reagent required by so many of his spells. Reshaping it was less easy. The girl in the other room was from _Earth _not Azeroth. She did not have the training to draw health from inanimate sources that any Azerothian with magical potential received, pounded in so deep that it was more like instinct.

So he was careful, meticulously shaping the shard, working with it several times as long as he'd have needed to cast a simple healthstone transmutation, drawing on more than ten thousand years of experience to carefully turn it from something that could be used at need to something that actively tried to push the raw lifeforce it contained into the one who held it. he walked back to his bed and placed the glowing green stone in the girl's hands, and for a moment, he felt a surge of hope.

The blood that had pooled in her lung was being reabsorbed into the bloodstream with great speed, faster in fact, than it had poured into the lung in the first place. But the rib was still broken, still causing bleeding. He could treat the symptoms, but not cure the problem. He went back to his lab searching through his mind and the notes he'd made over the years for some clue he had missed, something that would let him save a girl whose name he did not even know.

XXXXX

Tara opened her eyes to . . . greenness. Whoever had decorated this place _liked _the color green in a way that defied easy description. Even the trunks of the massive, three or four hundred foot tall trees were-

_Oh, hell._

Even thinking it, Tara winced. on the other hand, it was appropriate. Wherever she was, it wasn't Kansas. It wasn't even California which she would have settled for. _And_, she started and stared jaw falling slack in surprise, _the hill in front of her wasn't a hill_.

A very, _very _large eye opened and peered down at her in something very like surprise. It blinked a couple times, as though to banish an illusion before it turned to bring both its eyes to bear.

The dragon was the most enormous thing Tara had ever seen. She was trying to prepare herself to become lunch when the awesome creature spoke.

"I have not seen one of your kind within the Dream for a long time, child," the great green dragon said. The words weren't in English, but somewhere between her ears and her brain, they reshaped themselves into something comprehensible.

Tara just stared for several moments, mouth dropped open, before it occurred to her that ignoring the dragon was probably a wonderful way to get herself eaten. "Um," she muttered, "I'm s-s-sorry."

The dragon shifted again and there was a _clack_ that drew Tara's eye. Manacles held the dragon chained to the massive platform on which she stood. They appeared to be made of intangible mist, yet clearly they were solid enough to hold even something as obviously powerful as the dragon in front of her. The great creature looked down at her curiously. "How did you come to be here, child? The Dream was sealed many ages ago."

Tara once again stuttered over her answer. "I d-don't know. I-I was h-h-hurt and when I woke up," she spread her hands helplessly and the dragon leaned down its enormous head literally close enough for the witch to touch. Then, of all things, the dragon closed its eyes.

The manacles didn't like it. She could smell the heat they gave off cooking the Dragon's flesh even through its scales, but the creature in front of her only growled deep in its throat and seemed to concentrate harder before her eyes snapped open wide again. the amount of teeth it suddenly bared was enough to make her think she was about to become lunch again but the dragon let out a great laugh instead.

"Oh, what a day!" it called when it could finally halt laughter enough fro speech, "After all these long ages I _have_ them!" Tara was trying to back away, fear written all over her face when the dragon noticed and bent its head back down. "My apologies, little one. I did not mean to frighten you," it said. "Not you of all people who are to be the salvation of my children and I." if anything that made her more nervous, but the dragon was quick to detect her fear and tried to explain.

"For a span of years for which mortals do not have _words_ I and my kin have been trapped. Chained while our power was stolen to maintain a false balance," a laugh burbled up the dragon's long throat, "How ironic that one so linked to the Betrayer would prove our salvation," the dragon met her eyes, "Illidan-who-is-not healed you with druidic magics, and so opened a doorway to this place, that your spirit might take refuge here." Once again the dragon looked at her this time its expression was truly unreadable. "Your wounds are too sever for him to heal. In a few hours, you will die."

Tara's knees gave out at that and her hands began to shake. The dragon laid its head on the ground in front of her and spoke again. "I cannot heal you, but I can give you my blessing, and the power to heal yourself."

"W-w-what's the c-catch?" Tara asked, and the dragon tilted its head, apparently sorting out the idiom for a moment before it responded.

"My price is this. First, learn of the magic I grant you. Illidan-who-is-not can teach you some, you must learn the rest on your own. Second, I will have your pledge that you will seek out the seals that bind those of us that remain and free us."

"Us?" Tara asked, too startled to be afraid.

The dragon appeared to realize her request had not been understood. "The three Dragon Aspects who yet remain. My sister Alexstrasza the Lifebinder, my brother Nozdormu the Timekeeper, and I Ysera the Dreamer. The power that was stolen from us ages ago weakens, and the Burning Legion already pours through the cracks in the Shadow Wall. I see little chained as I am, but I have seen enough to know that in less than a millennia it will fall and the Legion will consume your world."

Tara wanted to disbelieve, but something in the dragon-no, the Aspect-in front of her spoke with such sincerity that she could only fell that it was true.

"O-okay," she said softly, then louder, "I accept."

XXXXX

So, how about them apples? Was it worth the wait? Feel free to message me with questions, comments, et cetera.

And that's it! I is goin' back to bed.


	25. A Valentine for Halloween II

Day twenty-three. Funsies.

As usual, I own nothing. Even my car belongs to the bank.

XXXXX

A Valentine for Halloween II

Xander was not really looking forward to meeting Buffy again. it wasn't that he was _scared _of her so much as he was simply scared _for_ her. He'd been riding on the ragged edge of pissed off at her before; finding out that all his friends thought that he was dead had pulled Chaos back to the surface for the first time since that ordeal with the Rakshasa in China the year before. If she pushed him too hard . . .

_There won't be enough left of her for anyone to even identify the corpse._

When he added to that how very annoyed Dawn was with her sister at the moment- and he caught his hand at chest level as his fingers tried to make it up to his lips again and jerked his arm back down to where Cerberus was holstered at his waist. He would swear he could _hear _Faith smiling behind him and he bit down a sigh.

_And the fact that my damn hormones are in an uproar isn't going to help._

He could still taste Dawn's lips on his. The memory would, inevitably, do little to improve his critical thinking skills. There was a lot of evidence on the effects of sexual cues on the male of the species' processing power, and right now one 'enhanced human' was reading Dawn as one big neon lit sexual cue. She wasn't even eighteen yet, for heaven's sake!

And he hadn't even freaking noticed that they were nearing Revello.

_I'm doomed. The obituary will read 'Notorious assassin killed to death by furious Slayer while eyeing jailbait.'_

Now that they'd almost arrived, Dawn's irritation was appearing to crescendo. Either that, or she was deliberately working herself into a rage for the express purpose of screaming at her sister. Whichever.

_And she'd been working out_, he decided as one kick splintered the wood around the latch and blew the door open. The fact that he'd been paying at least as much attention to the way her, urm, hindparts had moved when she threw the kick as he had to its placement had him wanting to find a convenient wall to beat his head against.

And Dawn was yelling. "Where is she?" she called as a grinning Faith stepped up to the door to watch. Xander grabbed two fistfuls of long black hair and began muttering darkly to himself. A sort of stunned silence met the younger Summers sister's question as Xander moved up to stand behind Faith and watch the train wreck in progress. Buffy stepped out of the kitchen, glaring at Dawn and not even bothering to look at the door. "Damn it Dawn, fixing things costs_ money. _It's not like-"

Dawn chopped her off at the knees. "You lying bitch! How dare you!" Buffy's eyes snapped to Dawn's face in outrage before snapping to the doorway. And him.

"You-" she yelled preparing to charge before Dawn grabbed her shirt and used some of the few advantages she had over her sister. Despite her mystical enhancements, Buffy probably weighed less now than she had when he'd last seen her. Dawn, on the other hand, had grown up quite a bit. With the advantages of mass, leverage, and surprise, it wasn't terribly hard for Dawn to spin Buffy into a wall.

"I can't believe you lied to all of us! What happened?" the light went on in Dawn's head. He could tell by her sudden shift in stance even though he couldn't see her face, "Oh, wait, wasn't that about the time Angelus vanished? Why I think it was!" she said in mock amazement as Buffy finally managed to untangle herself and get over her surprise at being manhandled. "What's the matter, did he do what you should have done, but couldn't you fucking necrophiliac whore?"

The slap seemed to echo throughout the house as Dawn went down, limp. Xander's heart ground to a stop. In those first few seconds as she fell, he thought Buffy had broken her neck. Once he got past the literally heart-stopping terror enough to see that the limp sprawl was simply a carefully trained martial artist's fall the damage was done.

Only the fact that Dawn yet lived allowed him to shift into the Galian Beast instead of Chaos. Before anyone in the room could react, Xander had slipped past a momentarily stunned Faith and slammed Buffy through the wall she'd been standing in front of.

Chaos was still pissed, but the instant retribution he'd delivered took enough of the edge off that he could safely drop his almost lycanthropic form without risking literally tearing the house apart as Chaos.

The girls scattered around the room and now peering at him through the hole in the wall appeared to be caught somewhere between trying to come to Buffy's defense and running in terror. Xander ignored them, the only one he cared about at the moment was still picking herself up off of the floor. "You okay, Dawn,"

"Nah, really," the teen said, holding her jaw and blinking back tears, "ah thin' i's 'roken," which was, again, almost enough to earn Buffy a one-way ticket to the afterlife.

_I can kill Buffy later, Dawn needs me now._

So he set one finger of his claw against the side of her jaw and tapped another of his material. Healing magic knitted the broken bone together and set teeth firmly in their sockets again. Dawn opened and closed her jaw a couple of times wincing over remembered pain before meeting his eyes. "Thanks," she said as she rose up and planted a kiss on his lips in full view of her sister and the other girls. Half the teenagers gave an involuntary little gasp at that. Buffy threw a short sword at his head.

The golden claw that had replaced Xander Harris's left forearm Halloween night caught the weapon in midair and then dropped it. Dawn growled at her sister, "Couldn't you have hit her harder?" she asked mournfully.

Xander, sensing a return of something approaching humor not that Psycho Barbie had been put in her place shook his head, "Afraid not, I was worried that if I hit her hard enough to get anything past that thick skull, I'd knock her head clear of her shoulders,"

Buffy made it clear out into the room before Xander used his transform material to turn her into a frog. "Now," he said as he looked around the room, "maybe the adults can speak without the children throwing tantrums. I understand you seem to have a problem here?"

XXXXX

A week and a day yet to go. Also, I do not have enough ideas for second episodes to make it clear to the end of the month. There will be at least two third episodes. You can probably guess which ones.

Oh, and a Rakshasa is a semi-vampiric Indian creature (subcontinent, not native american).

And that's it. I'm goin' to bed.


	26. The Night Lord II

No, I'm not dead, I just wish I was. Went to bed on the twenty-third and woke up in the worst pain I've ever been in. When the ER Doc says he's giving you a narcotic to 'take the edge off' . . . Yeah, hurts lots. I mostly spent the next few days alternating between applying cold and heat and whimpering. I've got three of these I was working on before my tooth tried to kill me to death, so I'll post them as soon as I get caught up enough in my classes to take the time to finish them up. It will probably be a while. I am so very far behind.

Standard disclaimer, etc.

XXXXX

The Night Lord II

Buffy was annoyed. Sure, she'd taken a little bit longer than she'd intended to make sure Riley was alright after Giles removed the behavior control chip that the Initiative had placed in his shoulder, but that was no reason for her friends to start the party without her. A quick look through the broken mirror confirmed her memory of how far down it was. Laser rangefinders in her helmet measured the distance while radar pulsed at the walls, determining thickness and stability. Definitely too far for her to fall. Even with the armor.

There were, however, other ways. Four Omega Titanium shields dropped into the depths of the elevator shaft, the clatter as they hit bottom serving as warning that she was on her way. The pair of manipulator arms attached along either side of the battle suit's spine reached out, grabbing hold of metal fixtures along the sides of the elevator shaft. It took less than a minute for the four dexterous manipulator arms, with the assistance of the two she'd been born with, to lower her to the bottom of the shaft.

_Looks like Willow's been here, _she thought as she saw the neat rectangular hole burned in the wall. She _could _have simply followed through that, but . . . _An inquisitor tamely following after a Methuselah?_

Her Screamer slammed through the elevator shaft's doors with contemptuous ease. Then it got a little harder. Her armored battle assist system was designed to kill, crush, and destroy; avoiding knocked out soldiers was a little bit difficult. On the other hand-

Her helmet identified and amplified a stream of sound and Buffy found herself listening to a well though out counterattack. She smiled. While they might—maybe—have been able to deal with Willow, there was no way their plan would survive Il Ruinante.

The first soldiers to see her were a squad apparently moving in to close off Willow's 'escape route' back up the elevator shaft. As though she would have needed it. They were not prepared to almost literally run headlong into a suit of advanced combat armor.

The one in the lead squeezed off an admittedly well-aimed burst of fire at her face. Unfortunately for them, she had known well in advance that they were approaching and one manipulator arm had already shifted to interpose a centimeter thick shield capable of totally resisting RPG fire, much less so called 'modern' small arms. She waded in amongst them, swinging her shields like clubs and then continued out the far side without slowing leaving eight bloody and bruised—but alive—soldiers behind her.

Abruptly her amplification software caught a burst of sound and radiation that Buffy had long since programmed it to identify. Knowing when the Gae Bolga was being discharged in her general vicinity was _always _a good idea.

_Looks like they're pressing Methuselah harder than I thought. Maybe I'll get a bit of a workout from this after all._

XXXXX

Willow scowled in annoyance from her place behind a section of concrete cut from one of the walls to act as an impromptu barricade. She'd been able to safely incapacitate the first responders and the follow up squad without killing them thanks to her haste mode, but now the assholes had her caught in a crossfire.

That however, wasn't what had her annoyed; she was playing rear guard and buying time until Xander was done electro-frying the cyborg monstrosity down the hall. She could have fallen back at any time. No, the annoying thing was that she could have blasted them out of existence in mere moments if she'd been willing to kill them, and—since they were Terrans—the part of her that was a noble of the Empire had her reaching for the Gae Bolg every time she let her mind wander. Maybe Xander had a point about her homicidal streak?

_Nah._

Things would probably have gone far better for the members of the United States military present that day if, at that precise moment, a ricochet hadn't creased Willow's cheek. For a moment she froze. Absolutely still.

For a moment.

"Yob tvoya mat!" she screamed as she rose from her cover, completely ignoring the bullets screaming past her.

There were five men out in the open where they'd been trying to sneak up on her. Given the angle the bullet had come in at, it was most likely one of them that was responsible. Lips pulled back in a fang-baring snarl Willow blurred into motion. The first didn't even have time to blink in surprise before she booted him in the ribs like a football at the opening kickoff. Despite being pissed off beyond all reason, her aim was true and a half-dozen of his fellow annoyances went down like so many bowling pins. The four others potentially responsible didn't even have enough time to adjust their aim before she was behind them. The last man in line got off easiest. Willow simply picked him up and threw him into another cluster of troops.

The next in line wasn't so lucky. He'd been maneuvering to bring his assault rifle to bear when fingers as strong and implacable as a machine press ground the bones in his left wrist to powder.

The yelled, "Freeze!" interrupted Willow before she could go for numbers four and five and she swallowed a curse.

Of course they'd have been bringing men around behind her. If she'd been _thinking _she'd have realized that. Instead she'd been _reacting _and now she was gonna have to kill some of these idio-

A figure in Inquisitorial Battle Armor slammed into the group of soldiers like a splitting maul hitting firewood, and that was one problem solved.

_I still can't believe how quietly she can move in all that metal,_ then another thought occurred to her, _Damn it all! She's going to convince herself she _saved _me. She'll be absolutely insufferable for a month._

Best head it off at the pass. "Ty chto mumu yebyosh?" she yelled and darted through the door after Xander. "I thought I'd have to play with these idiots all day!"

If the growl was any indication, she'd just firmly distracted the blue-haired slayer. _Yep, life is good._

Now if only Xander had saved her some demons to kill . . .

XXXXX

Adam observed the creature's progress with an idle sort of curiosity. Obviously not a human, and yet also unlike any demon he had records of, the creature was more than mildly interesting. It was almost a shame it had proved too difficult for the initiative's cells to hold. He would have liked to take it apart to see how it worked.

_Ah, well. I can always analyze the remains._

A flick of muscles activated his latest addition to his body mere moments before the creature stepped through the door. A burst of fire from the minigun finished it in moments. He was almost disappointed. He turned away, allowing the weapon to collapse back into his right arm.

He was preparing to resume tracking the progress of the other two intruders when he heard the laugh. As shocked as anything part computer was capable of being, Adam turned back to see something utterly impossible. In stead of a corpse with holes blown through it, the creature stood apparently having already healed from the wounds he had given it.

"Intriguing," Adam stated, "I'll have to make a thorough study of your physiology later," a bare moment later his right arm's secondary weapon extended.

He never had time to fire it. Somehow, in the time it took for him to activate the precise muscular trigger required, the creature had crossed the room and appeared at his side. The scythe it had been holding flashed across faster than he could follow and his arm suddenly ended just above the elbow.

A blow from his opponent's fist toppled him onto his back, and for the first time Adam experienced the emotion humans called anxiety.

It was momentary. His arm was already beginning to regenerate. He'd be without the extra weapons, but those were easily replaced. All he had to do was-

"Nanomachine, Crusnik oh-two power output eighty percent, activate." Bursts of electricity slammed into computer stations and other assorted electronic devices, but Adam only caught flashes of the chaos, his own internal systems were hardened, but even they were having trouble coping with the sheer strength of the EMP the creature was emitting. The anxiety returned. He had been so certain he understood. So sure that this enemy was just an unknown form of demon. He had been wrong.

This creature, whatever it was, with its newly grown black wings was like him. A higher being created with technology that made his own seem backwards and unsophisticated. Perhaps if he had known, he could have worked out a counter or a stopgap to permit himself time to gain an advantage.

As the black-winged being fired a crackling bolt of lightning, Adam felt another new emotion. Amusement. _I am defeated by my own hubris._

XXXXX

Xander sighed as he let his transformation reverse. Adam had possessed formidable defenses, but not formidable enough. The amount of electricity he was capable of emitting even with only eighty percent of his power was immense. It had overwhelmed buffers and blown circuit breakers.

And totally destroyed all the mechanical bits Adam depended on to keep functional. Uranium power core or not, he wasn't going to be regenerating from that sort of blow without better nanotechnology than this world possessed.

He bent his head in a quick prayer and blessing. The abomination before him had been a man once, or at least parts of him had been, and every man deserved last rites.

_Now I just need Buffy's armor to remove the power core and Willow's spear to burn the body._

He'd been a military officer once, in another life. Leave no evidence and they were likely to try rebuilding to see what had gone wrong. Leave just that little bit to hint at how bad things could have gotten . . .

Perhaps it would discourage them from any further forays. Perhaps.

_Whatever happens, it will be in the hands of God. _As far as the Crusnik was concerned there was no better place for it to be.

XXXXX

Second half of the Trinity Blood cross. For those of you who didn't guess earlier, Buffy went as Brother Petro

Ah, yes. A translation of the Russian invective.

'Yob tvoya mat': 'Fuck your mother'

'Ty chto mumu yebyosh?': Literally 'Why are you fucking a cow?' Idiomatically 'Get the lead out' or 'hurry it up'

And that's it. I'm goin' back to bed.


End file.
